The Diaries
by Diamond-Raven
Summary: When Harper visits her, the Eureka Maru opens up her database and reminisces about Harper's early years aboard her.
1. Chapter 1

The Diaries 

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters and references to Andromeda belong to Tribune Entertainment, not me. Vex Pac's name belongs to the writers who named him but never gave us a glimpse of his character, therefore, Vex's background and character are my own creation. Feel free to borrow him at your will.

Author: Raven

Story Rating: PG-13 (a little angsty, but knowing me, what did you expect?)

Archive: Sure, just tell me where it's going.

Summary: When Harper visits her, the Eureka Maru opens up her database and reminisces about Harper's early years aboard her.

Author's Note: First off, I didn't want to make this another long and endless story, (_Raven sighs and mumbles an apology_) but it just happened. I wrote a few pages, and I fell in love with it and my sister (my beta) couldn't get enough of it, so it's growing. I'm still not sure when it's going to end, but I'll see. Depends how you guys like it.

This is the lighter fic I've been talking about, but, as much as I tried to keep it unangsty, it does have my my usual tear jerkers and emotional wringers. I was going to keep it light, but then I knew that it wouldn't be an honest story. Harper's had a hard life and is a outcast in the new society he landed in when Beka picked him up. I couldn't just sweep that under the rug. Another thing, this entire thing is told from the Maru's point of view so, quite obviously, events that took place outside the Maru are only hinted at and I can't elaborate on them, but you can fill in the details using your imaginations. Also, the thing that annoyed me most about BAMSR was that Rev Bem and Vex Pac weren't on the Maru. I decided to change that. Alright, I'll be quiet now and let you read. Hope you enjoy. Feedback, as always, means the world to me and will make the muses bite quicker and make me post more chapters sooner. J

Note: Make sure you keep track of the years listed after the record number. They change. (No, _really_? Sometimes my genius amazes me. I will now shut up and write more useful stuff)

'When you're incapable of expressing compassion, anger or grief, you rely on your crew to express them for you.'

Eureka Maru 

Database Records Archive: Prologue (10088 – Present Day)

Harper came and saw me today. After Beka's routine supply run had turned sour a few days ago and had left us racing away from the station and the clutches of Nietzschean slavers, Beka had nearly fried my slipstream drive in her hurry to get out of the system. I wasn't upset. After all, her life, my captain's life, had been in danger. Besides, I knew that Harper would find time in his busy schedule of repairing and caring for Andromeda to fix me. And sure enough, he did.

My airlock whined open and he stepped through, a grin on his face.

"Hey, doll. Haven't seen you in awhile." He smiled, glancing around my empty corridors. He let out a low whistle as he looked at my coolant pipes. "You're looking better than ever. Except, maybe, your slipstream drive, but not to worry. Harper's here to fix you."

I love it when he talks to me. Beka does it too. Only, sometimes I wish I could talk back to them. Tell them how much I love it when they talk to me and treat me as if I were a person, even though I'm not.

Usually, I don't mind not having an AI persona. Too much hassle to build and too much of a strain on my systems to maintain. Not to mention that I've heard rumors about AI's turning bad. Some of them had turned violent and had killed their entire crew, or they had gone insane. Of course, I've never let Andromeda hear of these stories. They would terrify her and make her insecurities grow. We are very close and I don't wish to cause her any harm.

Harper whistled as he walked towards the engine room, his tools in his belt clanging against each other.

I did a quick scan of him, checking his life signs and his weight. It wasn't that I didn't trust Andromeda to monitor him properly and keep a close eye on him, but it was so routine for me that I did it anyway.

I was relieved when my scans came back to say that he was in moderately good health, sober, and had gained a few pounds since I last saw him.

I inwardly chuckle whenever I hear Andromeda complaining over Harper's weight. She is always worried sick when she sees that he hadn't eaten dinner, or had lost a pound or two. I always tell her not to worry. Harper is healthier now than he had ever been, and everyday, he is getting stronger.

I remember the Harper who had first stepped through my airlock, nearly five years ago. He had been much thinner. Nearly thirty pounds underweight. Andromeda would have a fit if she knew.

I turned my attention back to Harper, who was scampering around my slipstream drive, still talking to me. Telling me about what he did during his shore leave last week. 

Old habits die hard.

Looking at him ducking around wires, swinging and crawling around the pipes in my engines, it's easy for me to forget what year it is. 

It seems just like yesterday that he first stepped onboard behind Bobby who had towered over him.

The first time I met Seamus Harper.

Well, at least, that's what Beka thinks.

She doesn't know our little secret. The little secret that has stayed safe between Harper and I for years.

She doesn't know that I knew Harper long before she even saw him.

Database Records Archive: 1 (10083)

Specific Time: Sixth day on earth

We have been docked in the filthy space docking station on earth for about a week. I can't stand it. The berth Beka parked me in is crawling with rats, the boards are rotted through and Beka constantly complains about the unbearable stench of filth and death which clings to everything on this sorry excuse for a planet. I'm so glad I don't have a sense of smell. 

We weren't going to stop here. Beka and Bobby had both recoiled from the idea of even putting a finger on this filthy hell hole, but after Vex Pac reasoned with them that we really needed those this run, they relented. Beka has refused to leave. She's stayed hole up onboard the entire time we've been here. I can't say I blame her. Bobby and Vex, armed with guns and knives, left this morning in search of a black market boss named Keeler. 

We hadn't done a run in weeks. Money's running short, as are supplies, and my crews tempers. So, as soon as Beka heard through the universe's own personalized grape vine that there was a dealer somewhere who needed some weapons and supplies delivered to San Ska Ree as fast as possible, she had hastily volunteered. It was only when we were half way there that Beka realized we would be going to earth. Bobby had been doing most of the driving and Vex had been yelling out slipstream routes so neither Beka nor Bobby really knew where they were going. As soon as they saw what planet we were flying towards, they both just about yanked my controls around and ducked back into slipstream. But, as usual, Vex had intervened and had quietly said that it would only be a short run and that we really needed the money. As always, Beka listened, and, after some grumbling and cursing, so did Bobby.

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Not even night time is bearable on this planet. It actually seems as if it's quieter during the day than it is during the night. During the day, people scurry past me like rats, mingling in with the filth of the gutters they crawl through. Some dig through the dumpsters which lie in alleyways and garbage cans which stand on abandoned street corners, stuffing anything edible they can find in their mouths. Others huddle in broken doorways, staring around themselves with black, empty eyes void of all hope. It's impossible to tell how old any of them are. The rags which cling to their thin, boney frames engulf them and make them all look the same. Pale, hungry and miserable. 

Nietzschean patrols cruise through the streets. They roam around, pointing and laughing at various of the crouching, terrified figures who either scamper out of the way or hide in dumpsters when they pass. I'm surprised to see some of the Nietzscheans drunk. I had heard somewhere that Nietzscheans hardly ever drank. Something about alcohol rotting their liver. Well, just like the humans here are the exception to all others in the universe, so are the Nietzscheans. 

The patrols don't cease during the night. Now, they roam around, kicking snoring drunks out of the gutters or yelling and beating people huddled in doorways who were trying to sleep.

But unlike the monotone activity of the Nietzscheans, the streets come alive at night.

People come out of broken buildings, scampering out of glassless windows and some even hoist themselves out of the dumpsters they had spent the day sleeping in. I'm surprised to see the man holes in the streets being lifted and seeing figures crawl up from the sewers. I'm surprised, but not entirely disgusted. Personally, with Nietzscheans roaming around, I'd live underground too. Slowly, sound starts filling the dead streets. People gather in groups, talking and laughing, the air filling with such vile language that I nearly wince.  Needles and bottles of beer are thrown from one person to the next. Apparently the concept of diseases being transmitted this way has never occurred to them. Well, considering where we are, this isn't surprising.

The drunks who had been kicked out of their sleeping places earlier that day returned and slumped over, snoring peacefully. Children lurking in street corners scamper amongst them, and with quick fingers steal bottles of beer, shoes and scraps of food which the sleeping forms have on them. I see prostitutes standing on street corners, talking amongst themselves or 'conducting business' in the alleyways. Bobby calls it something else, but Beka hates the way he refers to it, so she just calls it what I call it. It really is politer.

I am amazed at this world. These people. I'm appalled by the filth and misery which surrounds them and out of which they had built their lives. But what surprises me more is how they have survived, and some, with a smile on their faces.

Little did I know that my engineer would be one of these people. A person who had spent his entire life living amongst these people, and yet, had come out the other end smiling.

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Onboard myself, things are quieter. Vex Pac is quietly sleeping on his bunk, and Bobby is stretched out on the bed beside him. Beka is sleeping alone in her room. Bobby had come to her earlier that night, but she had said that she wasn't in the mood. I couldn't blame her.

My entire crew sleeps peacefully and there isn't a sound, except for the quiet trickle of water from a leaky coolant pipe, and the hum of the corridor lights which are never turned off.

Suddenly, my attention is diverted by two figures outside.

The man hole directly in front of my berth had been quietly lifted, and a blond head appears. His thin face looks pale in the dim light of the broken street lamp, as he cautiously looks around, before looking down at someone standing below him and nodding.

Pushing the metal cover aside, he pulls himself out of the sewers with the easy practice of someone who had been doing so their entire life. Crouching down, he scampers closer to me. Another figure, a darker haired one, appears from the hole and crawls over to the blond one.

Both of them glancing around nervously, they reach down and simultaneously pull knives out of hidden pockets in the bottom of their pants. Neither of them are wearing shoes. After the blond one glances around one more time and then nods at the other boy, they crawl over to my airlock.

As the dark haired one reached up to pry open my airlock, the blond one yanked his hand back down.

"Don't touch it, idiot!" he hissed at him.

The dark haired kid frowned at him. "What do you mean, don't touch it? How the fuck else are we gonna get inside, genius?" he whispered back.

The blond one rolled his eyes. "Think, stupid. This bucket's a cargo hauler. It's probably got a hold on top of it somewhere. Should be easier to get into than the door."

My attention was momentarily diverted. 

_Bucket_? He called me a _bucket_?!

Grabbing hold of the metal ridges of my outside walls, the two of them quietly scampered up my sides and towards my cargo hold.

Their bare feet didn't make a sound and they climbed with the agility and gracefullness of two alley cats. 

They reached my cargo hold in seconds. Not even stopping, they used their knives and their hands to yank open my doors. When one of my doors opened with a quiet groan, they both climbed over the side and dropped inside, landing on the metal floor below them without a sound.

Their knives clutched in their hands, they nervously stared around, their eyes piercing through the darkness around them. 

Their pale, thin faces made them look like ghost as they stared around. The dark haired one quietly pointed at the ladder leading to my lower decks. Without a word, they ran across the floor, and scampered down the ladder. They were so quiet that the trickle of water from my pipes sounded out of place in the silence.

The two thieves quietly crept along the corridor. That was when I noticed that their faces weren't the only things which looked out of place on them. It was their eyes.

The blond one had deep, blue eyes the color of the ocean, and the dark haired one had pale blue eyes which glimmered like ice. Their eyes looked starkly out of place in their pale, dirty faces.

The blond one sniffed the air around him. 

He pointed down the corridor towards the crew quarters. "The people are down there." He whispered. 

The dark haired one nodded and together, they quietly crawled down the corridors towards my kitchen.

I had become increasingly worried when I had seen them starting to walk towards the crew quarters. It wasn't like I had a lot of valuable on me at the moment, but still. Beka's personal belongings are lying all over her room, and I knew that she'd be devasted if any of them were stolen. Like the picture of her and Rafe when they were kids, or her CD's, or the sweater her dad had made for her years before. I was worried over my systems too. From painful past experiences, I knew how easy it was for thieves to rip out my consoles, dismantle my engines and monitors, or unscrew my viewscreens from the ceiling and steal them.

However, when I saw the two of them running towards the kitchen, I sighed of relief. But at the same time, I was curious as to what they wanted. 

They didn't act like they were new at breaking into strange ships in the middle of the night, so I knew that they knew that they had missed my engine room and the cockpit by a few corridors, and they had deliberately turned away from my crew quarters. 

But when I saw them enter the kitchen and head directly for my cupboards and my fridge, I knew what they wanted.

The dark haired one rummaged around in the fridge, pulling out the leftover pizza from dinner and stuffing a slice into his mouth and taking a sip from the milk carton. The blond one leapt onto my counter, and opened my cupboards. Pushing a few cans aside, he reached towards the back and grabbed an old pea can. Using his knife, he tore the can open and used his knife as a spoon as he shovelled the peas into his mouth. 

I had seen many things over my life, but I had never seen thieves who broke in and risked their necks because they were hungry. Judging from the speed they were shovelling food into their mouths and from their stark thin frames, I knew that they were probably a good deal more than hungry.

I quietly watched them as they dug around in cupboards, pulling out more cans and opening up buckets of nuts and dried fruits. I noticed how careful they were not to take too much of anything and not to take anything which would easily be missed. 

The dark haired one had made his way over to my counter and had found what I saw was the sugar bowl. Taking the lid off, he peered curiously into the bowl. Carefully dipping his finger into it, he licked his finger. Immediately, a brilliant smile stretched across his face.

"Shay!" he whispered, whipping around. "You got to try this!" 

The blond one—Shay or whatever his name was—turned around and peered at the white powder.

"Looks like crystal." He mumbled.

The dark haired one waved a hand at him. "Nah, just try it. It's really sweet."

Cautiously, the other kid dipped his finger in and tried it. Right away, his eyes sparkled and that exact same grin appeared on his face.

"Shit! This is good. Man, Pez, when you dig 'em, you dig 'em good." The blond one mumbled, dipping his finger again.

The dark haired one—Pez I gathered—rolled his eyes at Shay and then yanked the bowl out from underneath his fingers.

"We take anymore, then tomorrow they're gonna have Ubers all over this place. You know they just have to sniff around to know it was us."

Shay rolled his eyes. "Fucking Nietzscheans."

Pez laughed, his pale eyes shining in the dim light.

Quietly, the two of them straightened up the cupboards, closed the fridge and put the lid back onto the sugar bowl before creeping along my corridors towards the ladder.

Scampering up it, they quietly ran over to the open cargo door, through which the dark night sky peered at them.

Quickly, they ran over to my walls and climbed up them, using pipes and dents in the walls as footholds. Crawling up my walls as if they were monkeys, they reached my ceiling and swung themselves around until they were able to hoist themselves out of my cargo hold.

Shay reached the door first, and then reached down and pulled Pez out of it.

Quietly, they pulled the door shut and then jumped down, landing soundlessly on the rotting boards of my berth.

Coming as quietly as they had come, their knives still clutched in their hands, they ran over to the open man hole. Sitting down, they swung themselves down into the sewers and then pulled the metal lid down over their heads, leaving nothing behind except the dark night and the busy streets.

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

They came back the next night. And the next. I got so used to my hungry night time visitors that I found myself looking forward to their visits. 

After a few nights, we had settled into a quiet routine. The two would emerge from the sewers directly in front of my berth a few hours after everyone onboard was asleep and quietly crawl up to my cargo hold. They'd hoist open the door and drop inside and quietly make their way to the kitchen. Once there, they'd go through the fridge and the cupboards, taking handfuls of food and stuffing some crackers or chunks of cake into their pockets to take home. They never made a sound when they came and when they left, and they were so careful with the amount of food they took that Beka, Bobby and Vex never suspected a thing. 

After that first night, Bobby had torn open the fridge in the morning, rummaging around for the pizza. I would have held my breath, had I any breath to hold, as I prayed that he didn't notice the missing slice which Pez had taken. But, asides from frowning at it a bit, he just shrugged and took another slice.

I guessed my young thieves relied as much on their own silence as they did on the sloppiness of the people they stole from. Besides, Bobby wouldn't have noticed if they would have taken the entire fridge. 

The only food item, rather, beverage, he took careful stock of and guarded as if they were his children, were his bottles of whisky.

Shay found them on the third night. Carefully unscrewing the lid, he'd sniffed it, grinned and took a swig. He'd held it out to Pez, who just wringled his nose at him and had turned to the sugar bowl. Laughing quietly, Shay took another sip, then screwed the lid back on and carefully put it back up on the shelf.

The next morning, Bobby dragged himself into the kitchen, bleary eyed and yawning. Right away, he headed to the shelf and took down the same bottle my blond haired thief had drunk from a few hours ago. Unscrewing the lid, he took a sip, before slowly putting it down and licking his lips. A frown formed on his face and all signs of fatigue vanished.

Turning around, the bottle in his hands, he roared down the corridor. "Who the hell has been drinking from my whisky?!"

Beka's laugh floated down from her room. "Oh, damn, I didn't think you'd notice, you know, me being the huge alcoholic I am and everything."

"Vex!" Bobby yelled down the corridor, ignoring Beka.

"Yes, Bobby?" Came the soft spoken reply.

"Did you drink from my whisky?!"

"No, Bobby. I didn't. I hate whisky, you know that. Why? Did someone have some?"

Bobby rolled his eyes and took a frusterated sip. "No, you god damned idiot! I just yell around this early in the morning about people drinking from my whisky because I fucking feel like it!"

Silence met this. Vex knew better than to retort an answer when Bobby was in this mood.

Grumbling under his breath and muttering something about 'thieving swine', Bobby glared around himself before taking another sip.

A couple of sips later, his temper had simmered down, and his ranting and raving had died away. Moments later when Beka came in and asked when Keeler would bring them the shipment, Bobby set own the bottle on the shelf and forgot about it all together.

The secret I shared with my two young thieves was still safe. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Diaries

Chapter 2

Data Records Archive: 2 (10083)

Specific Time: Two days later

Beka just announced to Vex that we'll be leaving tomorrow morning. I have to say that I'm just as glad as my captain is about leaving. I've had enough of this planet's misery and suffering and I wouldn't care if I'd never see it again. But, a part of me does feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of not seeing my night time visitors again. I just hope that they'll be able to find other unguarded slumbering ships docked in the station from which they can steal scraps of food and live another day.

Bobby and Beka were in a fierce argument about Keeler. Apparently, Keeler doesn't trust them to deliver his precious weapons and other odds and ends and wants them to take one of his employees with them. 

Let me just quickly explain a little bit about Keeler's operations. I never learned this from Beka, but from scanning over the contract Beka and he signed, I learned all I needed to. What? I'm not nosy. No way.

Keeler and his little group of underage and undernourished cronies really ran two operations, one in a shipyard, and the other on the black market. Although I didn't know anything about his shipyard business at the time, I would learn about that soon enough. Apparently he'd either dig up old wrecks and get his 'engineers' to fix them up and sell them off as new, or he would lease his 'engineers' out to help people fix their ships, and in some cases, relieve their sexual frusterations as well for an extra little price. However, I knew nothing about this business at the time, but I knew lots of interesting facts about Keeler's other job. 

During their days off from the shipyard, Keeler and his cronies spent their days receiving orders from various low lives sitting around the universe. Whatever they wanted, Keeler would send his employees scampering to find it. Weapons, drugs, blankets, medical supplies, alcohol, whatever their new client wanted, Keeler would find a way to get it for them. Or rather, Keeler's employees would find it for him. Clients simply sent Keeler their money, and then waited around until Keeler found someone who would cart his shipment to his customer. Now, since the receiver of these goods had already paid for them, Keeler knew he would have a very angry customer on his hands if those goods didn't reach them. So, every time a stranger agreed to run his junk to his client, Keeler sent one of his employees with them so that the runners wouldn't think of flying off with his goods and keeping them, leaving Keeler with a very angry doctor, drug lord, or rich business man on his hands.

This was why Keeler was now insisting that Beka take one of his workers with her while she delivered his goods.

Bobby personally didn't seem to care very much, but Beka wouldn't hear any of it.

"Bobby, for the last damn time, I'm not letting anybody stay on my ship unless I want them here."

Bobby sighed. "Beka, doll, I know how you feel—"

"No, Bobby, you can't possible know or understand. You don't have a ship. I do. Whoever I have staying on my ship, it's like—it's like they're a part of me as well as my ship."

Bobby stared at her with raised eyebrows, obviously not understanding her point, but then he waved it aside.

"Beka, it's only for a few days. We'll bring the junk to San Ska Ree, fly back here, dump the kid and get our money. I doubt we'll even know his name by the time we throw him back out."

Beka sighed. "We don't even know this kid."

Bobby shrugged. "So? We just keep him locked up in the storage closet or something. As long as he can't get his grubby paws on anything he can steal, we should be fine. Besides—" Bobby laughed softly. "I'm not going to be sleeping peacefully at night unless we've got the kid tied up and locked away somewhere. You know as well as I do that he'll slit our throats as soon as we close our eyes and dump us out the airlock."

Beka raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Bobby, I doubt that—"

Bobby held up a hand, his eyes hard. "Beka, you've seen this planet and you've seen the people on it. They'll do anything to get another scrap of food or an extra throne. I doubt he'll even shed a tear after slitting our throats and dumping us out."

"You see? Right there is another reason not to take him. I'm not going to have someone like that on this ship!"

Bobby changed tactics. "Right, and what if we don't take him, huh? What happens then? I'll tell you. That filthy drunk swine—what the hell is his name again?"

"Keeler."

"Right, Keeler. He'll take all his junk back and tell us to go find another run. And you what, Beka? We ain't got the money or the supplies to last the time it'll take us to find another run. It's either this or nothing."

Beka walked over to a railing and leaned against it. Crossing her arms, she stared out at the broken docking station outside of my windshield. She sighed.

"Fine." She muttered. "Fine. Let the kid come." She turned around and looked at Bobby, not a trace of a smile on her face. "But Bobby, I'm warning you. We're keeping him under lock and key the entire time he's onboard my ship, and if he so much as looks the wrong way, I'm throwing him out, even if we're in the middle of slipstream."

Bobby nods. "Deal."

Grumbling under her breath, Beka turned around and walked down the corridor towards her room, telling Bobby to go and grab the kid. She wasn't putting a foot on this planet as long as she could help it.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

Data Records Archive: 3 (10083)

Specific Time: That morning

Our new crewmember, or rather, Keeler's employee who was coming along to guard the 'fat swine's' (Bobby's words, not mine) treasures with a hawk eye, appeared the next day.

Bobby came striding towards me, his gun dangling in one hand and a knife in the other. He glared around himself as he walked and scowled at the huddled form of a sleeping person in the gutter as he passed by. 

Between Bobby's long legs I could see the dirty barefeet of someone half running to keep up with him.

Bobby punched in the access code into the panel, and I opened my airlock for him. Hoping onboard, Bobby kept right on going, yelling to Beka that 'the kid' was here and that he was going to start the engines.

'The kid' had frozen right before my airlock and was staring at me with surprise and shock.

I really can't say who was more surprised out of the two of us. Or shocked.

My newest crewmember was my blond night time thief, the one who had called himself Shay.

Years later, I would still think that this was the most ironic and hilarious thing I had ever come across in my lifetime. 

The ship he had stolen from for days would become his new home, although he didn't know this yet and wouldn't for quite some time.

But, however surprised or shocked he had been, he quickly wiped it off his face and replaced it with a blank stare which I would come to know extremely well later on.

I think he would have stood there for days and refused to come in, until Beka strode down the corridor, muttering in annoyance about them having to leave in a few seconds. She stopped at the airlock, crossed her arms and stared down at him.

She looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow.

Looking at him, I had to admit that he did look a lot worse in daylight. His face looked even thinner and paler, and if his blue eyes had seemed starkingly out of place when seen in semi-darkness, they now stood out even more. Like diamonds amid lumps of coal. 

I wouldn't realize until later that this didn't only apply to his eyes, but to the rest of him as well.

A baggy sweater engulfed him. The edges of it were frayed and there was a hole by one of his elbows. The sleeves hung past his wrists, but he didn't seem to care. Looking at the sweater closer, I saw that it wasn't really a sweater at all. Bits and pieces of old sweaters, shirts and even blankets had been sewn together with black thread, and the rags had been turned into a sweater. I wondered briefly how long he had been wearing it.

His pants looked a little more snug, although they hung so loosely on his hips that I thought they might fall of any moment. He had tugged the bottom of his sweater into his pants to keep them up, but the bottoms still dragged and were stained with the dirt which covered the sidewalks.

He still wasn't wearing any shoes. 

I glanced back up to those blue eyes. Above them, filthy, spiky hair stuck out wildly in every direction, and it just made his face look paler. A dull metal earing glimmered in his left ear.

Whatever Beka's initial reaction to him was, she hid it behind a blank stare.

"So, you the kid Keeler sent?"

He nodded slowly, not saying a word and not taking his eyes off of her. A wary, cautious look glimmered in them.

Beka frowned but whatever thought she had, she pushed it aside. 

"Okay, so, what's your name kid?"

He didn't let that steady gaze of his waver. "You can call me whatever you want." He said, his voice toneless and blank, just like his face.

Beka blinked. "Okay, yeah, not what I asked. I asked what your name was." 

He didn't answer for a moment. Then: "Harper."

That struck me as strange. I mulled it over for a minute, until I realized what was bothering me. Pez had called him Shay. Never Harper. So why in the world did he say his name was Harper? I shrugged it off, since Beka and Bobby used fake names too on certain runs.

I just wondered briefly which name was the fake one.

"Harper? Okay, then, Harper. Just in case you missed the enormous roar from ten seconds ago, Bobby just started the engines so if you don't get your skinny little ass on this ship, we're leaving you here. I doubt Keeler would be very happy about that."

Without a word, he lightly jumped up, and right away, cautiously backed away from Beka.

Beka didn't notice. She slammed the airlock shut and yelled down the corridor that Bobby could leave.

Running a hand through her short red hair, she sighed and glanced back down at the kid—Harper, Shay, whatever the hell his name was.

"Alright, I'll give you the speech now because I'm going to forget and later, I have stuff to do." She crossed her arms again and stared down at him. He gazed at her, that wary look in his eyes.

"I'm Beka. Beka Valentine. The ship you're standing on is the Eureka Maru. She's mine. You damage anything on her, I'll throw you out into slipstream. Got it?"

A small nod. His face never lost that blank stare.

"The big guy driving is Bobby. Being the skinny twig you are, I suggest watching your mouth with him. He doesn't like tag alongs any more than I do, especially mouthy ones. Lastly, there's Vex Pac. You can call him Vex. He's pretty quiet and if you stay out of his way, you'll be fine."

When Beka stopped, she had expected him to either nod or to ask something. But she got nothing. That blank mask was still there. Along with that eerie, unwavering stare from those eyes.

She raised an eyebrow. "You deaf or something?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, at least we established that. Any questions?"

Another shake. Beka frowned down at him, but again, whatever question she was going to ask, she pushed it aside.

She pointed down the corridor. "The cockpit's down there. Stay away from it unless someone else is there with you. The kitchen's on your right and the crew quarters are on your left. The can is beside the crew quarters. My room is on the other side of the can. I catch you sniffing around in it, I'll throw you out quicker than you can blink."

She waited for some kind of a response, but again, got nothing. Usually when she gave new crewmembers the speech, they either brushed it off with a scowl and eye rolling, or they cowered and looked like they wanted to jump out into space right then and there. 

I remember one crewman had once asked Beka point blank why she was such a tough nut with them. She had shrugged off the question and muttered a 'none of your damn business', but I already knew the answer.

My captain had grown up shouldering hardships and living among people who were sometimes far from kind and understanding. She had learned early on how to take care of herself and had learned that people gave her the space and respect she demanded as long as she acted tough. But, there was a flaw in that shield which she had resurrected around herself. 

Deep down, her heart was too open and too giving. After this had landed her in countless messy relationships and had led to many crewmembers taking advantage of her and me, she had become tougher and more cautious.

Despite the blankness on Harper's face, I could tell that her message was clear. But what Harper didn't know yet was that underneath my captain's toughness lay a kindness which was willing to embrace the entire universe. 

Her father, as well as Rafe and even Bobby, considered her kindness a fault, and, living in the universe which they lived in, I had to agree.

But, on the other hand, I shudder to think what life would be like if someone like Bobby Jensen were my captain.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          

Two hours later, I finally discovered that my new crewmember was actually capable of expressing emotion.

Standing in the bathroom, Beka stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. She was glaring across at Harper, who had backed himself up against the wall beside the shower and was glaring back at her.

Beka sighed. "Look, Harper. I don't give a damn how long you've been wearing those clothes, but I'm not going to have this ship crawling with lice, cockroaches and whatever else has been living in that sweater for the past decade, understood?"

He glared. "You ain't touching my clothes."

She glared right back. "Might I remind you whose the captain here and whose the tag along? What I say, you do. Now, give me those clothes."

"Well, what 'a hell am I 'posed ta wear if I ain't wearin' these? I ain't got nothin' else."

I had to wince at his grammar. I had heard bad language before, but it still never failed to amaze me.

Scowling, Beka turned around and stomped out of the bathroom, giving Harper a look that plainly told him not to move until she got back.

Going into the crew quarters, she went over to Vex's bunk and rummaged around underneath it until she found a pair of pants and a shirt and a pair of boxers. They all looked like three Harper's could fit into them, but at least they were clean.

Rolling them up into a bundle, she went back to the bathroom.

She held them up. "You can wear these. Vex won't mind."

He stared at the bundle, his eyes widening slightly. "I can't wear those."

She frowned, looking down at them. "Why not? Trust me, Vex won't mind. I know they're a little big, but I get the feeling you don't exactly mind that."

He scowled and slightly shook his head. "No, it ain't that. I just can't wear those."

"Why not?"

"Cause they're clean. It ain't right to get 'em dirty." He mumbled.

Beka stared at him. 

Slowly, she put the bundle down on the counter. Some of her toughness faded away. 

"Harper, really, it's okay. Vex won't mind. Besides, we have a washing machine. You can always wash them when they're dirty." She said, quietly.

Harper continued scowling at her, his gaze never wavering.

His eyes quickly darted between her and the clothes. 

Beka grabbed the bundle and lightly tossed it at his feet.

He continued staring at her, untrusting. Finally, he crouched down, running a light finger across the fabric of the shirt. 

Glancing down between her and the clothes, he suddenly yanked them into his arms, stood up and backed against the wall as if he was afraid Beka was going to change her mind any second and take them back.

Deciding that Harper was willing to change now, Beka leaned over and pulled the door closed behind her as she stepped out of the bathroom.

Moments later, he reappeared, engulfed in Vex's clothes. Beka and I both stared at him. Well, even though the clothes he was wearing were half decent, the figure they were engulfing was still thin and dirty, but I knew that the kid was jumpy enough and didn't need to jump over two hurdles in one day. We could tackle the figure underneath the clothes later on.

Apparently—as was so often the case—my captain shared my thoughts. Holding out a hand, she took the bundle of old clothes which Harper handed her.

Without a word, she walked towards the engine room, holding the clothes at arms length.

Kicking open the door, she walked over to the boiler which heated the water flowing to my kitchen and bathroom.

Wrenching open the door, she tossed them into the fire. After slamming the door shut, she walked to the bathroom, holding her hands out in front of her, probably scared that whatever she touched would shrivel up and die.

Harper was standing exactly where she'd left him, leaning against a wall.

When she walked past him and went into the bathroom, he quietly crept after her and pretended to look discreet as he stared at her.

Beka reached over and turned on one of the taps. Water gushed out of the faucet.

Immediately, Harper stiffened and his eyes widened as he stared at it.

Beka didn't notice. She squirted some soap onto her hands and rubbed her hands until they were raw. After rinsing the soap off, she thought for a minute, before using the soap again. Thoughts of cockroaches were probably dancing around her mind just like they were in mine.

After turning around to dry her hands, she caught Harper's surprised stare before he could change it back to the blank mask.

"What?"

No response. He shrugged and warily backed up a few steps.

For the millionth time that day, it seemed as if my captain was going to say something else, but then changed her mind.

Striding past him, she told him to come and help bring a mattress into crew quarters. I frowned for a moment. I knew there was an extra bed in the crew quarters. The bunk above Vex's was free. Bobby slept in the one beside Vex's. I wondered briefly why Beka wouldn't let Harper sleep in that one, but I got my answer soon enough.

As they walked to the cargo hold where Beka kept all the junk we never needed—such as extra mattresses—neither of them said a word.

Hauling the mattress down the corridor, Beka told him to turn it sideways and that way, they tugged it into the crew quarters. They pulled it to the back of the room which was littered with the junk nobody ever bothered to clean up.

Pushing aside piles of broken tools and machine bits and old boxes filled with Beka and Rafe's few childhood toys, Beka scowled when she grabbed a handful of Bobby's clothes and threw them onto his bed.

Pushing a strand of her red hair off her face, Beka leaned back and kicked the mattress firmly into the corner.

Now I understood. If Harper were to try and make a run for it or leave the room, he'd have to crawl past both Bobby and Vex's beds first. The chances that neither of them would hear him were pretty slim.

But, the thought crept into my mind that Harper had been crawling down my corridors and past this room countless times in the past few nights and he had been so quiet that nobody had ever suspected a thing.

I smiled inwardly as I realized the futility of Beka's precaution.

I pushed that thought aside when Harper said something.

Harper nodded his chin at the mattress. "What's that for?" he mumbled.

Beka frowned at him. "Uhm, for you to sleep on?" She tried not making it sound sarcastic, but still came out that way. I couldn't help frown the same way. What kind of an idiotic question was that?

He stared down at the mattress with wide eyes, then back at Beka. "I can't sleep on that."

Another frown from my captain. "Why not?"

He shrugged and stared down at the floor. "Cause I'll make it dirty."

Beka stared at him and half opened her mouth, but then changed her mind and briefly closed her eyes.

Wearily reaching up to rub her temples, she opened her eyes and stared down at him.

"Look, it's been a long day, and I don't have the time for this. You sleep on it, or you sleep on the floor. I don't care. It's your choice."

With that, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving Harper staring down at the mattress, that blank expression back on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

The Diaries 

Chapter 3

Data Records Archive: 4 (10083)

Specific Time: That night

Bobby swept into the kitchen and immediately headed over to his whisky bottles. Unscrewing the lid off the same bottle Harper had drunk from a few nights ago, he turned and slammed it onto the table.

Vex was at the stove, stirring the chicken noddle soup my crew was having for dinner.

Half turning from the stove, Vex nodded at the cupboards behind Bobby.

"Would you get the plates, please, Bobby?"

Bobby scowled at him. "I come here to eat, not to slave around the fucking kitchen." He spat, reaching for the bottle.

Vex blinked at him patiently. Vex was one of the few people who didn't crumble into a terrified mess when Bobby unleashed his temper on them. He treated Bobby with the same quiet respect and patience he gave everyone else.

Not pausing in his stirring, Vex quietly replied: "I didn't ask for very much, Bobby. All I'm asking is that you get the plates. It's really not much to ask, and besides, if you get the plates, we can eat sooner."

Bobby opened his mouth to retort an answer, but seeing Vex's passive and completely unimpressed expression, he shut his mouth and turned around. Muttering under his breath, he yanked out three bowls.

Slamming them onto the table, Bobby was about to pick up the bottle again, when he caught Vex glancing at him over his shoulder.

"What?"

Vex nodded his chin at the table. "You've missed a bowl."

Bobby glared at him. "Just because we took the kid with us doesn't mean we have to feed it."

Vex blinked at him and without another word, went back to stirring the soup.

Grumbling and scowling, Bobby picked up his bottle and stomped out of the kitchen.

As soon as he had left, Vex quietly wiped his hands on a towl hanging beside the stove. Turning around, he reached up and took out another bowl.

Without a word, he set it down between his and Beka's places, and then went back to stirring the soup.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          

"Dinner!" Vex called down the corridor. A grumbling response came from Bobby, who engaged auto-pilot and pushed himself out of the piloting chair.

Beka stepped out of the bathroom, scrubbing her wet hair with a towel. Leaning back inside, she hooked the towel beside the sink. She walked down the corridor towards the kitchen.

I prayed that she'd notice she was missing somebody. Somebody who hadn't moved for the past hour during which he had sat in the crew quarters. But, not having an AI, I have to rely on my captain's gut instinct and her good eyesight.

As always, I ended up not needing that AI.

Beka suddenly stopped, a frown spreading across her face and took a few steps back before pausing in front of the crew quarters.

Harper was sitting on the floor beside the mattress, his knees pulled up to his chest.

Rubbing her hair with one hand, she leaned against the doorway.

"Come on already. Didn't you hear Vex? It's dinner. That means eating time."

Harper stared at her with those eerie, blank eyes before pushing himself off the floor. Quietly, he shuffled across the floor with his barefeet barely making a sound on the metal grating.

Following Beka down the corridor, he stayed behind her the entire time, not taking his eyes off her. At every step, he was exactly two paces behind her.

When they reached the kitchen, Bobby was already sitting there, shovelling spoonfuls of soup into his mouth. He glanced up when he saw Beka, but when he spied Harper shuffling in after her, his eyes hardened. He dropped his spoon and shook his head.

"No way. No fucking way."

Beka frowned as she sat down and reached behind her for a glass. "No way with what?"

"The kid isn't eating with us."

Beka smiled. "Bobby, I don't know if you've realized this, but people have to eat to stay alive. Of course the kid is going to eat with us. Besides, I don't think you have to worry about him eating more than his share. I doubt he can finish even a bowlful of soup."

Bobby shook his head again. "There is no way I'm letting those filthy paws of his near the same food I'm eating. I can just see cockroaches hatching between the noodles."

Beka rolled her eyes. "Bobby—"

"Don't 'Bobby' me. I've seen what those things do with their hands down there on that planet."

Harper hadn't moved the entire time they had been arguing. Standing there with his head down, his eyes constantly darted between Bobby and Beka. He looked as tense as a wound up spring, ready to run for it the moment any of them moved closer to him.

Beka sighed and was about to start yelling, but then Vex quietly walked into the kitchen. He glanced between Bobby's and Beka's scowling faces and Harper's blank one, before immediately understanding what the matter was.

Glancing at Harper, he jerked his head towards the bathroom.

"Come on, kid. I have to wash my hands anyway. I'll show you where the soap is."

Without a word, Harper turned those blank, untrusting eyes onto Vex and quietly followed him down the corridor, staying behind him the entire time.

When they reached the bathroom, Vex turned on the tap and water started gushing from the faucet.

Harper backed up a few steps, his eyes widening.

Vex glanced at him over his shoulder, but didn't say a word. Moving over slightly so Harper could see, he turned off the tap and turned on the other one.

"That first one makes cold water come, this other one brings hot water." He muttered quietly.

Holding a finger under the water until it was warm enough, he squirted some soap onto his hands and rubbed his hands together.

Harper's eyes were still staring at the water gushing from the faucet. His eyes narrowed, and a tinge of anger flared up in them when he looked at the water swirling down the drain.

"Why're you wasting the hot water like that?" he asked, sounding angry.

Vex glanced at him. "I'm not wasting it. Everything on this ship is recycled and can be used again."

Harper stared at him. "Everything?"

Vex nodded. "She's an impressive ship."

I couldn't help but feel smug and proud right then and there. I might not have a fancy AI like Andromeda, but I'm still 'impressive'. 

Harper nodded. "That's right good. There ain't so much hot water out in the world that people can just go and waste it. It ain't right."

Vex nodded. Rinsing his hands, he dried them on a towel hanging beside the sink. It was the same one Beka had used to dry her hair.

Moving over, he glanced at Harper. 

Stepping up to the sink, Harper cautiously reached out and turned on the hot tap. He jumped back slightly when the water shot out of the faucet, but then gingerly stuck a finger under the stream of water.

A small smile spread across his face, but he quickly let it fade away. Letting the water run over his hands, he put some soap on them and rubbed them until they were raw and then rinsed if off. Carefully turning off the tap, he quickly sniffed his hands.

"They smell good now, don't they?" Vex asked quietly.

Harper nodded, before drying his hands. 

Together, they walked back down the corridor. Harper's face was blank once more and his eyes never left Vex's back as they walked, and Harper never left his post from behind Vex, even when Vex slowed down a bit.

Reaching the kitchen, Vex sat down at his own chair. Following his example, Harper sat down between him and Beka.

Bobby glanced up as they came in. "What the hell took so long?" he mumbled from a mouthful of noddles.

Vex didn't even look at him. "I couldn't find a towel. It seems as if _someone_ here decided to use it to dry her hair." He smiled at Beka.

Beka had played this game often enough to know what was going on. It was a little game they always played. I call it 'how to soothe Bobby Jensen's anger and keep him from killing someone'. 

She laughed lightly. "Sorry about that Vex. I just like making life difficult for people."

Harper sat stiffly on the chair, his head down but his eyes darting between Beka, Vex and Bobby.

I could tell it was straining on him to have to keep his eyes on so many people at the same time. 

Seeing his empty bowl, Beka reached over and poured a ladle of soap into it.

Bobby was still glaring at Harper, who was staring at his bowl with an unreadable expression on his face.

Beka decided to remedy the situation by starting up a long and boring monologue about which shops she wanted to stop by when they reached San Ska Ree. When she'd come to the end of that and Bobby was still glaring at Harper and the latter hadn't touched a drop of his dinner, Beka lightly kicked him in the ankle.

He yanked his head up, stared at her and jerked away from her as if she had just shot him. Beka ignored his reaction and nodded at his bowl.

"Either eat it or if you're not hungry, pour it back into the pot."

Slowly, not taking his eyes off any of them, Harper stuck a few fingers into the soup and pulled out a few noodles. Hungrily, he stuffed them into his mouth and swallowed them, hardly taking the time to chew them.

Apparently, hunger overrode his instinctual habit of never letting down his guard when surrounded by strangers. Hunching over his bowl, he wrapped one arm around it, hugging it close to him. The other hand grabbed chunks of chicken and noddles and stuffed them into his mouth which was just inches from the bowl.

All the while, he didn't take his eyes off Bobby and occasionally glanced at Beka and Vex. 

Bobby was staring at him. The expression on his face looked like he couldn't quite decide whether to be disgusted or pissed or, or both.

Finally, he was about to open his mouth, but changed his mind when Beka firmly kicked him under the table.

Right away, Beka continued with her long monologue, saying how much she despised the Than's eating habits, but how they were still good people and she liked them and on and on and on. She didn't even glance in Harper's direction.

Vex completely ignored the entire situation as well and continued eating. Only when he reached across the table, past Harper's bowl to refill his own bowl, Harper's eyes jerked over to him. The arm which was wrapped around his bowl pulled closer to him and he hunched over more, shovelling the food into his mouth at a faster pace.

Not even looking at him, Vex leaned a little closer to Bobby as he pulled his hand back with a ladle full of soup.

Harper was finished in a little over a minute. After he had picked all the noddles and chicken bits out of the soup, he grabbed the bowl and drank the soup, but all the while, he never raised the bowl enough so that he couldn't see Bobby over the rim.

Finally, he set his bowl down and licked his fingers dry and then wiped his mouth on Vex's shirt which he was wearing.

Beka glanced at him. "You want more?"

Harper stared at her as if she'd asked him what color space was. Wordlessly, he nodded slowly.

I was staring to get a little worried. I knew from the amount Harper weighed and the way he ate that he clearly wasn't used to having a lot of food. I worried that feeding him too much in a small amount of time would do more harm than good.

But, as always, my captain wasn't dumb. Far from it. She reached over and poured a small amount of soup into his bowl.

Not enough to make him sick, but enough for him to know that she wasn't about to let any members of her crew—even tag alongs—starve.

He stared at her after she pushed his bowl towards him. Seeing his stare and the fact that he hadn't touched his bowl, Beka gave him a small smile.

"Well, get moving. Eat it already."

Needing no other encouragement, Harper slouched over the bowl, pulling it towards him with one arm and shovelling the noddles and chicken into his mouth with his other hand.

I was getting the sneaking suspicion that Keeler had firmly instructed his employee not to even breath without getting permission first. Much less eat or walk down a corridor to the kitchen without being told to first.

But whether my captain had realized this or not I couldn't tell yet. She launched into another meaningless ramble about something, ignoring Harper's untrusting gaze constantly darting around the table and the insane speed at which he was inhaling his food.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

If Bobby had been in a sour mood at dinner, he was in a worse mood that night. He had gone to Beka while Vex and Harper had gone to the crew quarters, but Beka told him she wasn't in the mood. When he'd snarkily asked why, she'd retorted that she hadn't been too impressed with his attitude towards Harper and that maybe a night of not having sex would let him think things over a bit.

I quietly cheered my captain on, but, knowing Bobby, I knew he wouldn't do much thinking about it at all.

He'd stomped into the crew quarters. Not looking at Vex, who was changing into his pajamas, or Harper, who had gone back to crouching in the corner on the floor, Bobby ripped his shirt off and flung it onto the floor.

Reaching over, he flipped the lights off, ignoring the fact that Vex now had to rummage around in the dark to find his bunk.

Swearing and muttering about something which I couldn't—nor did I want—to make out, Bobby threw himself onto his bunk.

Moments later, there was silence in the room. Vex was starting to drift off to sleep, I could hear his breathing pattern deepening, and Bobby was tossing and turning. I knew it would still be a few minuts until he feel asleep.

However, the third figure in the room hadn't moved. Crouching in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, his eyes pierced through the darkness and he never took his eyes off of Bobby's tossing, mumbling form.

His blue eyes glimmered in the darkness and I knew from his night time visits that Harper could see just as well in the dark as he could in the light.

Briefly I wondered if they had any lights in the sewers where he'd lived. I wanted to ask him, but knew I couldn't, so I pushed it into the pile of countless unanswered questions I keep in the back of my database, waiting for the day when my captain asked them and I would get my answer.

Apparently, Harper's steady, unwavering gaze wasn't only bothering me. 

With a curse that would make any decent person faint, Bobby threw his covers off and reached over and turned on the lights.

Vex sleepily rolled over and opened his eyes. "What's going on, Bobby?" he asked, yawning.

Bobby scowled at Harper, who still hadn't moved and was staring at Bobby with that blank look.

"The kid won't stop staring at me and won't sleep."

Vex sighed. "Just leave him alone. When he gets tired enough, he'll go to sleep."

"You try sleeping when there's two eyes of the devil boring into your back. It gives me the damn creeps."

Vex smiled slightly at the imagery, but then leaned over and looked at Harper.

"Child, that mattress it there for you to sleep on. Use it. Now, I really suggest you try and get some sleep. Tomorrow Beka will probably keep you hopping and busy the entire day and you'll need the sleep."

"I don't sleep." Came the quiet response.

Bobby gaped at him and muttered a 'what a freak', but Vex only blinked.

"Alright then, but then please stop staring at Bobby as if he will kill you any moment. It disturbs him and he can't sleep like that, and—even though you don't need sleep—Bobby does. Trust me, he won't hurt you—"

"If he doesn't stop staring at me, I will." Bobby interupted him.

Vex ignored him and continued looking at Harper.

Harper glanced at Vex, before moving his eyes down and staring down at the floor between himself and Bobby's bed.

Bobby reached over and turned off the light again. Just before he pulled his covers back up, he snorted. "The kid isn't only filth, he's a freak too."

Vex rolled over and closed his eyes. It looked like he wasn't going to respond, but in the silence which settled over the room, I heard Vex's quiet answer.

"A lifetime of habits can't be broken in a night."

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          

It might do well to explain exactly who Vex Pac is at this point. 

How Vex came to be a part of my crew is a story so old that Beka hardly remembers it, and Bobby neither knows it, nor cares. I would go back and fish around in my old database for some decent footage, but they're so far back in my memory bank and so entangled in stuff Harper has never been able to clean out that I'll get all my systems in a snarl trying to get them lose and Harper would never forgive me. So, I'll have to rely on my own little memories.

Vex Pac had been Ignatius's old childhood friend. Unlike Sid, who had been a business partner first, and a friend second, Vex had always been a friend more than a business partner.

This arrangement suited everybody just fine. Sid hadn't been able to stand Vex's quiet manner and his complete indifference to people's outbursts or anger, and Vex didn't mind that he hardly ever saw Sid either. Greedy and obnoxious people weren't high up on Vex's list of favourites. 

It had also never been a secret that Vex hated the salvage business. Flying around in space, living hand to mouth and willing to do anything just to score another run had never been Vex's idea of a life. 

When the old captain had been convinced by Sid to start dealing in the drug business as well, Vex didn't want to have any part in it.

The only reason the quiet man hadn't left was because of Beka and Rafe. Never having been much of a father, and hopelessly floundering around after his wife died when Beka was just an infant, Ignatius had not the faintest idea how to earn a living and raise two children at the same time.

Vex quietly made it his duty to help him. Little by little, Vex helped teach his old friend how to deal with children and raise them. As Ignatius quietly watched from the sidelines, Vex was the one to whom Rafe ran when he had scraped his knee, and for whom Beka cried out when she had bad dreams. After a few years, when Vex could see that their real father was ready to finally step into that role, he had stepped back. Whenever Rafe came running to him, he'd quietly push him to his father and tell him he had the bandages. Whenever Beka cried out, Vex held back and waited until Ignatius screwed up the courage to go to her.

Vex had left me and my crew shortly after Beka turned thirteen. Saying something about his job being done, and his heart being ripped to pieces by his old friends' drug use, he left.

But, as with so many members of my crew, he didn't stay away for long.

The year that my darling old captain died and Beka was left with me, no crew and a heap of debts, she found herself bewildered and at a complete loss at what to do.

That was when Vex showed up again.

He quietly picked up her burden and showed her how to deal with it. He taught her what to look for in people she hired, how to negotiate with stubborn bosses, how to milk a contract for all it was worth, and most importantly, how to keep that kindness within her heart from hurting her.

After a few years, Beka had learned all she needed to, and once more, Vex stepped back to hand Beka back her burden.

I knew that the time had come for Vex to leave once more. His job being done, and his heart once more breaking by Beka's relationship with Bobby, he had been about to leave until life handed Beka another responsibility with which she didn't know how to cope.

This was Harper.

So, once more, Vex stepped back into her life to help her. And over the years that followed Harper's entrance into our lives, Vex quietly showed her how to help him. Beka knew what Vex was doing, and she willingly sat by and watched and learned.

It wouldn't be for a few months until Beka could take her responsibility and attach it firmly to her own hip, never willing to part with it, even in the face of death.

I know it seems a bit much to believe, and that quite a few people would doubt this. So, in order to prove myself right, I'll go back and fish around in my database for few more figments of evidence which helped shape the people Beka and Harper would become.

Database Records Archive: 5 (10083)

Specific Time: The next morning

Harper had been living in my quarters and walking my corridors for less than 24 hours. During that time, he has hardly said more than two words.

Beka realized quite quickly that he only answered anything which was phrased as a question, and that the quickest way to get an answer out of him was to ask him a yes or no question. If she asked him an open ended question, such as how he liked the pancakes they had for breakfast, he'd just shrug. 

He also hasn't dropped his guard even for an instant. Whoever was around him could feel his steady, untrusting eyes digging into them. Whenever he was walking with one of them, he'd stay exactly two paces behind them, never getting closer to them or farther away.

He also couldn't stand to have anybody touch him. At breakfast after his first night onboard, Beka had lightly touched his arm as she was reaching for more syrup. He had recoiled and yanked his arm away from her, staring at her as if she'd just broken his arm.

Taking her cue from how Vex had dealt with a similar situation at dinner the previous night, Beka ignored his reaction and when pulling the syrup towards her, made a wide detour around him.

When he kept on staring at her, his fear making him forget about his hunger, she had given him a gentle smile and told him to keep on eating, since staring around wouldn't feed him.

Speaking about breakfast, little changed around the table that morning from the previous night. Bobby still scowled, Beka kept up a lively conversation with herself and Vex ignored everything. The only exception had been Harper.

He had quietly crept into the kitchen behind Beka, who had come to get him from the crew quarters where he had been crouching in the exact same position in which Bobby and Vex had last seen him. She had given him a smile and told him to come have breakfast.

He'd gaped at her.

"Eat again?"

She smiled. "Yup. It's called breakfast."

His eyes grew wider. "But we just ate last night."

Beka started to frown, but quickly let it fade and leaned against the doorway.

"I know. That was dinner. We eat three times a day up here."

He looked like he was going to pass out. "Three times a day? Folks back home are lucky if 'ey can get least one bite a day. Never mind three. What gives y'all the right ta eat three times a day?"

She stared at him, her arms crossed. She was going to come closer so she could grab him if he did keel over, but knew he'd get freaked out and defensive if she came any closer, so she stayed where she was. At least he was talking to her. She bit her lip. I knew she was thinking about how to handle the situation. She probably wished that Vex would come along, but, I knew she had to try and handle this by herself.

Truth be told, I had no idea what she should say. How do you explain to someone why it's okay and natural to eat three times a day if there were places where people starved to death everyday and didn't even dream of eating more than once a day?

Beka dropped her crossed arms, and with it, her tough mask fell and sympathy flooded her face.

"Harper, I don't really know how to explain it. But in certain places, people are given more chances, they're given more opportunities, and, basically, they get more breaks than others do. And if you get one of these breaks, nobody around here is idiotic enough to throw it out the window because it isn't fair. You take what you can get. You should know that."

He stared at her. She hadn't asked him a question, so she didn't expect an answer, but she could see the stunned look leave his face and that faint glimmer of anger fade away.

"Coming?" she asked, jerking her head towards the kitchen.

Slowly, he got up and walked across the floor in his barefeet. 

As they were about to make their way to the kitchen, Harper turned and went to the bathroom.

Beka frowned after him. "The kitchen's this way."

He nodded. "I know. Just need to wash my hands first. Don't want Bobby to skin me alive."

Beka couldn't help but laugh as she leaned against the wall, listening to him turning the tap on.


	4. Chapter 4

The Diaries 

Chapter 4

Database Records Archive: 6 (10083)

Specific Time: 3 days later

Beka stood by the sink in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, an empty glass in her hands.

Bobby was piloting, since my auto-pilot had fried the day before.

Hey, don't look at me. Although, I might be quick to add here that I doubt anybody minds if Bobby Jensen is busy flying and isn't roaming around the rest of me. Are you accusing me of sabotage? Me? Little innocent me? No way. I don't even have an AI.

Vex was busy drying a stack of pots and pans he had just finished washing.

Harper was sleeping. After only having dozed for a few minutes at a time and only a few times each night, he was exhausted. Beka had been quick to notice and after her and Vex's urgings, Harper had curled up in his corner beside the mattress and gone to sleep.

Beka had been about to start arguing with him to sleep on the damn mattress or he'd get a cold, but Vex had stopped her. 

Vex was just laughing over Beka's description of the arms dealer she had run into a few weeks ago. The man was 93 years old, half blind and half deaf, but could still shot an apple right through the core at fifty yards away.

Harper quietly walked into the kitchen. He crept so quietly all over the place that more than once he had scared the living day lights out of Beka when she had turned around and suddenly found him standing not two feet behind her.

Beka glanced at him. "I thought you were supposed to be sleeping." He stared at her and shrugged. Beka realized her mistake and reworded her question. "You aren't tired anymore?"

He shook his head. Beka glanced him over up and down. He still looked as filthy as he had three days ago, but at least he didn't look so tired.

"So, Harper. I have to go and rewire the auto-pilot. You feel like keeping me company?"

It was more of an offer to keep him away from Bobby's temper, but Harper didn't need to know that.

He nodded.

Smiling, Beka turned around and filled her glass with cold water from the faucet. Turning the tap off, she started rambling about how the auto-pilot had fried during the night and we had been drifting through space aimlessly for hours before she had noticed. 

She turned back around, still talking and was about to raise the glass to her lips, when Harper shot forward and knocked the glass out of her hands.

It flew from her hands and crashed onto the floor, shattering into tiny fragments of glass.

Right after, Harper leapt back from her, his eyes wide.

"Harper, what the hell?" Beka asked, staring from the broken glass to Harper.

Harper pulled himself away from her, looking ready to run at any moment. His face was pale and his eyes looked scared.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I ain't meant to broken the glass." He stammered, his eyes staring at her.

Beka's anger faded when she saw how scared he was. She slowly held up her hands.

"Harper, it's okay. I'm confused as hell, and you're going to explain yourself, but I'm not angry. It's okay."

"I'll clean it up, Captain, I promise. I'll clean it up."

She waved that aside. "Forget about it. I already said it's okay. It's just a glass. I've got lots of others." She stayed where she was, looking across at him without moving, until he relaxed a little and seemed to understand that she wasn't angry and wouldn't hurt him.

Then she frowned at him. "Okay, now that we have that out of the way, can you explain to me why you just knocked a glass out of my hands? No offense, but I like my dishes. I don't like playing basketball with them."

He looked like he was about to ask what basketball was, but he must have figured that now was not the time to ask.

He licked his dry lips, still slightly trembling. Staring down at the broken glass, he mumbled a reply. Beka didn't hear him at first and gently asked him to say it again.

"It ain't the glass. It's the water. You ain't supposed ta drink the water."

She stared at him. "Why aren't I supposed to drink the water?"

He had been shifting around uncomfortably, but as soon as he heard her question, he stared at her as if she had just asked a completely idiotic question.

"Cause it's bad for ya. It's got all kinds of crap in it. Anybody who drinks it without boiling it first either spends the rest of the week hurlin' up everythin' they eat, or most people keel over right quick. You never drink it unless ya boil it."

Beka stared at him, suddenly understanding.

I quietly thought it over, and then realized that Harper must be right. I could just image the things the Nietzscheans had contaminated the water supply with out of carelessness. Nuclear waste, filth, garbage, and quite a few decaying things floating around in it must have made the water so contaminated that even a mouthful could be lethal.

Beka tried to smile at him, but this smile wavered slightly. "Harper, this water's clean. Trust me. The Maru filters it everyday, just like the air—"

A light seemed to have turned on in Harper's face. "You mean that's why it always smells so weird in here?" he asked in amazement

"Weird? Well, not quite. It's more like _clean_, but anyway. Yeah. She cleans the water and the air everyday and they're both clean enough to breath and drink. Don't worry."

Once again, might I emphasize that I'm an 'impressive' ship?

She reached over and took down another glass and filled it with water from the tap. Holding out for Harper to see, she took a sip.

I could see the little shudder go through Harper and he was staring at Beka as if he was expecting her to fall over dead any second.

But after Beka drained the glass and she appeared perfectly fine, that doubtful look faded from his face. But he still looked wary, and when Beka offered him the glass, he shook his head, claiming he wasn't thirsty.

Out of all the things Harper adjusted to during his life onboard myself, drinking water was the only thing that never clicked with him.

He just couldn't do it. He slowly got used to everything else and trusted Beka and Vex about everything, but when it came to drinking water, there was a part of him that refused to let go of his old instinct and fear.

Even when he was close to passing out from thirst, he refused to touch water. No matter how many times Beka or Vex, and later, Rev, Trance and even later, Andromeda, tried convincing him that it really was clean, there was a part of him that just couldn't accept it.

After growing tired of trying to coax Harper into drinking water and seeing him drying up 'like a fig'—as Beka put it—she finally went up to the cargo hold and rummaged around until she found a few cans of Sparky Cola which Rafe had consumed in gallons when he had been a teenager.

Harper had immediately loved the sickenly sweet taste of it, and the fizzy bubbles in the stuff and he adopted that as his subsititute for water. Whenever Andromeda complains about it, Beka just laughs it off and tells her it's better than Harper substiuting alcohol for water, which he had grown up doing.

And people wonder why my engineer is an alcoholic and why everyone encourages him to drink a beverage that rots his intestines and keeps him buzzing around on caffeine at all hours of the day and night.

As Beka so eloquently explained it to Bobby, when the latter refused to pick up a few cans of Sparky for Harper on his next shopping trip, 'When you want to eat a sandwich and you can't get one, you should be willing to settle for two slices of plain bread. At least you're half way there.'

Database Records Archive: 7 (10083)

Specific Time: 1 day later

The scene before me reminded me of Harper's first day onboard when Beka had argued with him to change his clothes.

Beka was standing in the doorway, barricading it in case Harper tried to make a run for it. The latter was backed up against the wall, crouching there and glaring across the small room at Beka.

"I ain't letting that water near me."

Beka rolled her eyes. "Harper, we've been having this argument for ten minutes now. The water is not going to drown you. You just stand under the spray and it washes all the dirt off of you. Besides, you're going to do this whether you like it or not. You can do this yourself, or I can call Bobby in here and he'll be glad to help out."

Harper's wary eyes darted around the room, considering those options. Quickly, he changed his argument.

"I'll fucking drown in that much water!" he whined.

Beka rolled her eyes again and helplessly glanced over her shoulder at Vex, who was passing by her. He gave her an encouraging smile but showed no indication of helping her. Beka turned back to Harper. "It's called a shower, not a swim, Harper. All you need to do is stand under the water. It won't drown you."

After mulling that bit over in his mind, he glanced up and tried one more time.

"But why do I got to do this? I never had a shower before and I've been fine."

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "That last part is the exact reason you're going to have a shower today and lots more to come. You stink like a dump and you look even worse and Bobby swears he'll hurl if he has to sleep in the same room as you one more time."

Finally, he glared at her one more time before mumbling that he could shower himself and that he wasn't a little child.

Ignoring that last part, Beka fired instructions at him, knowing full well that he'd never let her come close enough to him to let her help him, but at least she could tell him how to have a proper shower. She didn't think he was lying when he'd said he'd never had one before.

"Alright. So, you take off those clothes and hand them to me and I'll wash them in the washing machine and have them dried and on the counter by the time you're done, okay? Then you turn on the water and use the soap to wash every inch—and I mean every inch—of yourself. Then you can use the shampoo—that's the green bottle behind you. Yeah, that one—to wash your hair. When you're done with that, put some of that crap I have on the counter here on your hair too. It'll kill the lice."

"Hey! I don't got any lice!"

She looked at him. "Right. And those things crawling down your shoulder and making that hair of yours move around are just figments of my imagination. Anyway, so then you keep that stuff on for about 5 minutes and then wash it off. Then you're done."

"How am I supposed to know when five minutes are up?" he asked, full of attitude.

She rolled her eyes. "Count to, let me see, five times sixty—count to 300. That should do it."

"Three what?"

"Hundred."

He snorted. "Do I look like I can count that far?"

Beka stared at him. "You can't count?"

He snorted again, shifting around uncomfortably despite the attitude in his voice. "Course I can. Ubers teach us everything down there."

Beka frowned, but pushed that aside. Now was not the time to teach someone how to count.

"Well, okay. Can you count at all?"

"Yeah."

She smiled. "Okay, then. How far?"

"From one to six. Hooker taught me when I was thirteen."

Beka nearly choked on that last sentence, but she ignored it. "Six? Okay. Count to six, and raise a finger everytime you reach six and then start over. After you've raised all your fingers—that's ten by the way—you start all over. Do that five times and you'll have reached three hundred."

He thought it over for a minute, before nodding and sighing. 

"There ain't no way I can get out of this?"

"No." she said, point blank and in the tone of voice that allows no arguments.

Without another word, she leaned over and shut the door behind her.

Harper stayed where he was but quickly pulled off his clothes and bundled them up and quietly handed them out the door to Beka.

Then he turned to the shower and gingerly stepped in. He reached over and turned on the tap. 

When cold water shot out of the showerhead and rained down on him, he nearly howled and leapt out of the way, but bit his tongue just in time.

Shaking from the cold and the shock, he turned the tap off and turned the other one on.

Someone had to tell that kid that the red dot indicated the hot tap and the blue one indicated the cold one. It seemed like a logical thing, but if you really thought about it, why doesn't the hot one have a yellow dot and the cold one a green one? I pushed that aside as one of my rambling, nonsense thoughts and marvelled over the stupidity of the thought and went back to making sure my future engineer didn't slip and break his neck.

It took him a while to get the hang of letting the water engulf him, but after the first time he ducked under and then pulled himself out of it, sputtering and swearing that he got some up his nose by some miracle, he slowly got used to it.

The whole time he scrubbed himself with the water and the soap and later the shampoo—which he liked the smell of so much he used it all over himself and would continue to do so for years, which is a secret Beka knows nothing about and probably never will—there was a small smile on his face. 

I didn't know what he found so amusing or wonderful, but after he glanced up at the showerhead and held out a hand to catch the stream of water coming down from the ceiling, I realized what it was.

Running water still held a fascination for him. Clean running water was just a dream come true.

After reaching out and grabbing the lice killing junk Beka had bought the day before, he poured the entire bottle on his head, swearing when some of the guck got into his eyes and stung. Whipping around, he splashed water on his face and rubbed his eyes until he could open them again. 

Then, he patiently stepped out of the spray and leaned against he wall as he started to count. It started pretty slowly. Apparently he hadn't had much opportunity to practice his counting much these past few months, and it took him a while to remember that two was between one and three and that five came before and not after six. But finally he got into the swing of things, patiently counting up to six and lifting one finger every time he finished. 

Once a dribble of the disinfectant reeking green guck got into his eyes again and he had to lower his fingers to wash it out of his eyes. He surfaced from under the spray only to discover that he didn't know how many series of sixes he had done, since he forgotten how many fingers he had been holding up.

Slamming a fist into the shower wall and letting lose a string of curses which sounded worse than anything Bobby could possibly come up with and something which shouldn't come out of anybody's mouth at any time, he leaned against the wall and started over.

So, by the time he reached three hundred, after accidently skipping two a couple times and having to go back and redo them and having lost count that one time, he had actually let the guck sit in his hair for 7 minutes and 23 seconds. I know. I timed it.

But, by the time he washed it out of his hair—which surprisingly stayed spiky even when soaking wet—a stream of little black bugs came down and were torn down the drain by the green water swirling past them.

Finally, after scrubbing himself one last time with shampoo, he rinsed himself off and then stepped out of the shower.

For the first time during the entire time he had been in the shower, I got a good look at him.

If I thought he had looked thin with his baggy clothes on and in the middle of the night, that had been nothing compared to what he looked like without any clothes engulfing him and under bright lights.

I found myself actually being grateful for the baggy clothes which Harper had grown up wearing and had continued wearing to the present day. They hid the thin, broken body underneath it.

He was so thin I could count his ribs easily and his collar bone dug through his pale skin like a dull knife. His thighs looked barely wider than his calves and his pelvic bone looked like it should belong to someone else.

But that wasn't what shocked me the most. 

It was the scars.

His entire body was covered with them. Some of them on his arms and his back looked white and old, but some were still red and livid. 

His back looked the worst. Covered with long scars criss-crossing across his pale skin, I knew that no amount of falling down stairs would have caused those. Somebody had deliberatebly inflicted those on him. I ran an analysis and checked my database to see what could have possibly caused those kinds of scars. From their length and the patterns which covered his entire back, I guessed it must have been a whip of some sort. A long one by the looks of it.

That thought disturbed me so much that I moved on to other scars.

A long, horrendous looking scar ran across his chest starting nearly at his left shoulder and ending just above his navel. Again I tried guessing what could have caused it. From the raw ridges and the scarred tissue lining it, I knew it had to be a blade or something very sharp. Mulling it over, I gave up when I realized that no knife could have dug deep enough to give him that kind of a cut and left him without a punctured lung.

One of his ribs was covered by a sore, awful looking scar, which was surrounded by black and white tissue. It looked as if he had obtained a broken rib somehow and whoever had treated him had managed to set the rib straight again, but had burned the wound closed to prevent him bleeding to death. It must have been as painful as the scar looked. Looking at it closer, I could see that the rib hadn't been set straight after all and that if Harper were punched at the exact wrong angle, it would snap in half and probably puncture his lungs.

I seethed over the fact that there were no decent doctors or hospitals on slave planets, and then seethed even more about the fact that I couldn't tell Beka about what I'd discovered.

I knew that Harper wasn't the type to flaunt these things around and would try and keep them quiet and hidden for as long as possible.

I didn't know at the time and not many people know even at the moment, but his own body is the only thing Harper is ashamed of. Everything else which he has done during his long and hard years on earth—and which he gave me glimpses of whenever he was drunk, hurt or upset—were never a source of shame for him and he regarded them as normal, considering the life he'd lived.

But his body was something he'd never accept or flaunt around as an asset.

Starting very early on, he made it a point to never take off his shirt around other people.  Whenever he had to get changed or have a shower, he'd either glare or stare at anybody near him until they backed away from him. He's never broken out of this habit. Even when the heat on either myself or Andromeda is stifling and everybody has stripped down to the bare essentials, Harper refuses to take off his long sleeved shirts.

He had never had a problem with Beka bugging him about it. She knows the value of privacy and knows that everybody had their own skeletons in their closets, and if Harper had a few pet peeves, she'd willingly abide by them if she got his loyalty and trust in return.

And she did.

But, back to Harper—look how I ramble on and on about absolutely nothing. It's probably a good thing I don't have an AI. I'd probably talk everybody's ears off.—accepting his body is something he has never been able to do. Even later when Beka found out about the abused body Harper keeps hidden beneath layers of baggy clothes, she tried to convince him that it didn't matter, but it had no effect what so ever.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

While Harper was busy having his first shower and swearing and counting to three hundred, Beka was sitting on the washing machine in which Harper's—rather, Vex's—clothes were being washed.

Vex was sitting on the dryer across from her, fiddling around with a broken scanner in his hands.

Beka ran a hand through her short red hair.

"I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do? I can't send him to school. Not only would Bobby flip at the idea, but Harper would never agree, but I can't just leave him like this."

"Beka, he's lived fine for a long time without being able to count or read or write."

She frowned. "How do you know he can't—?"

Vex shrugged, not looking up from his scanner. "Just a hunch. But that's beside the point. He's gotten along fine without needing to know these things."

"Yeah, on a slave planet. Sure, living there, you don't need to know these things, but up here, you do. It's just something that everybody does. It sets apart the filth in the universe from the less trashy people."

Vex raised his eyebrows. "You do realize that that child comes from the lowest and most dispicable groups of filthy and uncivilized people this universe has? Granted, it's not their fault, since the universe doesn't give a damn about the poor souls, but still. Rebecca, you can't paint a black sheep white. It doesn't work."

The wash machine stopped. Beka hopped off it and took out the soaking wet clothes. Vex moved over slightly and she tossed them into the dryer and turned it on.

Hopping back up on her perch, Beka stared across the floor at Vex.

"So you're saying I shouldn't even try?"

Vex shook his head. "No. All I'm saying is that if you do want to try and get people to accept him, you can't just show him the door and shove him through it by himself. He's a stranger in our world, Beka. He doesn't know how to act, what to say, what to do. Just because you show him how doesn't mean he'll be able to do it. If you're serious about this, then this is one hell of a responsibility."

Something just occurred to Beka. She frowned and stared at Vex. "But you did it."

"What?"

"With dad. You helped him raise Rafe and me. But after that, you didn't leave. You didn't just show him the door and shove him through. You stayed to help him out. And with me you did the same thing. You stayed after you showed me how to take care of myself out here. To make sure I was okay."

Vex gave her a gentle smile, his eyes twinkling. "And now, Rebecca, you can do the same thing for Harper. It's a huge responsibility, and I'm not saying it will be easy. But what I can assure you is by the end of it, you'll have his unwavering loyalty and trust. And those make it worth the struggle."

With that, Vex hoped off the dryer and walked out of the room, leaving Beka staring at the empty dryer.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

That night, Beka sat down at the table with Harper and first checked his hair for any signs of lice, even though he fidgeted and scowled the entire time about her touching him, and then she pulled out a flexi and patiently taught him how to count up to ten.

By the end of the week and after long nights of swearing and frusterated groans, Harper could count all the way to a hundred. 

It was hard to say who looked prouder when Harper rattled off all one hundred numbers to Vex's smile and Bobby's unimpressed scowl—Beka or Harper, but I didn't look too closely. It didn't matter.

Database Records Archive: 8 (10083)

Specific Time: A week later, at dinner time

"Dinner!" Vex called down the corridor.

Beka glanced up from the floor where she was welding together torn wires. Harper crouched in the corner, watching her with that blank look on his face. 

She glanced up at him and grinned. "Chowing time."

He gave her a twisted, tiny smile which was a huge change from the blank stare he usually gave her when she made these small comments.

Shoving the wires off her lap and tossing the nanowelder onto the floor, she stood up and started walking to the kitchen.

Without turning around, she knew Harper was quietly walking behind her, watching her like a hawk with those steady, blue eyes. She couldn't hear him at all and most times he managed to blend in with his surroundings so well that she didn't see him either. She couldn't count the number of times she'd turned around, only to find him standing inches away from her, curiously watching what she was doing. At first, she'd always had her heart jump into her throat and she'd barely keep herself from yelling at him to at least stomp around a bit. But now, she was used to it. I could tell. Even though Harper was as silent as an alley cat and snuck around everywhere without a sound, it was easy to feel his presence, if only by those ever watchful untrusting eyes digging into your back. I was so glad I was a ship and not a person.

Beka glanced over her shoulder as they walked to the kitchen. She frowned down at his bare feet.

"I've got to get you shoes sometime kid. You're gonna catch a cold running around on this metal floor in those bare feet."

He shrugged, his way of telling her it didn't matter. Suddenly, he ducked to the side and flattened himself against the wall, his eyes wide. I guessed he had sensed someone coming up behind him. It was an eerie, sixth sense of his which I have never been able to analyse properly. He calls it his spider sense. Whatever that is.

Beka stopped. "What?"

Harper sniffed the air. "Bobby's coming." He mumbled. 

Beka raised an eyebrow. "You can tell that by sniffing around?" Her question was interrupted by Bobby's snort as the latter stomped down the corridor, passing by a cowering Harper who never let his wary eyes leave him.

"Heard some crap about us buying the runt shoes. You can forget it. We'll be at San Ska Ree in a few days, and then we're going back to earth and dumping him. We ain't spending our money on him."

Beka sighed. "Bobby, I never said our money's going to go towards that. I said my money will."

"Big difference. We're still not doing it." He said, sounding completely indifferent to the matter and stomping past her into the kitchen.

Beka's anger rose. "It's my damn money, Bobby and whatever I feel like doing with it is what I do with it." She yelled after him.

But her anger vanished as soon as it had come. Muttering under her breath and running a weary hand through her hair, she glanced at Harper.

"Come on, kid. Let's go eat."

Harper didn't nod, only stared at her. Whatever he was thinking was hidden behind that blank mask.

Not waiting for an answer, Beka walked into the kitchen, feeling Harper's quiet presence behind her.

They sat down and Beka glared at Bobby quietly as she helped herself to some rice and a piece of chicken. She turned around, grabbed a glass from behind her and poured some water into it from the pitcher. Slamming her glass onto the table, the water nearly spilt, but Beka didn't notice.

Bobby sighed quietly and put down his fork.

Reaching over, he gently squeezed her hand. "Look, baby. I'm sorry I was so rough about it, but you know we ain't got a single guilder we can waste. Not one. Hell, we can't even buy another solder to replace the one Vex busted the other day. Normally, I wouldn't mind getting the runt shoes—even if it is a waste and he don't need them—but not when money's this tight. I'm only looking out for us, baby. Nothing more." He said quietly.

Beka's anger faded and she slowly nodded and squeezed his hand back.

Smiling gently, Bobby took his hand back and went back to eating.

Harper meanwhile, had watched the entire scene with his usual blank face, showing no emotion in his eyes or on his face.

As soon as Vex had given him a spoonful of rice and some chicken, he'd immediately pulled the plate close to him and kept an arm around it, still afraid that one of the others at the table would change their mind about giving him food and take it from him. Hunching over his plate and not taking his eyes off of Bobby, he shovelled handfuls of rice into his mouth and tore small strips of chicken off the bone and hardly spent any time chewing it before swallowing it.

As always, before Beka had even started to really dig into her meal, Harper was busy picking up the crumbs and little rice pieces which had fallen off his plate and hungrily stuffing them into his mouth. The chicken bone which was still on his plate appeared to be bare except for a few chunks of chicken and blood vessels on it. Harper grabbed it and hungrily tore every piece of meat off of it. Lastly, he did something I had never seen anybody do before.

He snapped the bone in half and sucked the marrow out of it.

Beka had gotten used to his eating habits and the hunching and protecting of his food and the way he shovelled it into his mouth with his hands and inhaled it faster than he could breath were normal now, but she couldn't help but stare at this.

"Harper, you can have more chicken you know. You don't have to devour it as if it's the last thing you're getting in this lifetime." To emphasize her point, she reached over and put another piece of chicken on his plate.

Wordlessly, Harper stared at her but only put down the broken, clean chicken bones when he could grasp the new chicken piece and started chewing on that.

His eyes darting back and forth between Bobby and the other two people at the table, he gnawed on the bone until it was bare, and then promptly snapped that one in half too and sucked the marrow out of that too.

Vex chuckled gently when he saw Harper's clean plate with four little bare chicken bones in the middle.

"Well, nobody can say you're a picky eater." He smiled.

Harper stared at him with that blank look on his face and didn't respond.

The laughter abruptly faded away into an uncomfortable silence and the smile slid off of Vex's face and he went back to looking at his own plate, Harper's unyielding stare still on him.


	5. Chapter 5

The Diaries 

Chapter 5

Author's Note: I nearly had a heart attack the other day when I was sitting here, typing away, and all of a sudden, my screen went blank. I nearly went insane when I thought I'd lost my entire story, but (everyone can take a breath) thanks to the wonders of technology, my genius computer saved it for me before it crashed. I now have an undying respect for technology. Anyway, thanks so much for the feedback people! I was afraid you guys wouldn't like this story and it totally made my day better seeing that you guys like it as much as I do. I'm sending my eternal gratitude to those people who reviewed and made me want to sit down and keep on writing, including Jen (who always leaves the best reviews and notices all the little things I put into my stories. Thanks) and Parisindy (who stayed up all night to finish reading the previous chapters. You're crazy, but heck, who here isn't?Thanks for loving this story). Now I'll be quiet and let you read the next part. Tell me if you like it or hate it.

Database Records Archive: 9 (10083)

Specific Time: A day later, at dinner time 

The atmosphere around that table was a lot tenser then it had been over the past week. Bobby was in a sour mood. He had nearly broken his hand while trying to repair a broken pipe and getting his fingers stuck in the crack. He'd grumbled and sworn about it the entire day and had gone out of his way to yell and glare at Harper for no reason while the latter just stared at him without a word.

Swearing, Bobby threw his fork onto his plate and shovelled another helping of spaghetti onto his plate. Grabbing his whisky bottle, he swore again when he realized it was empty. Turning around, he hurled it at the wall, where it shattered into pieces with a loud crash. 

Beka briefly closed her eyes and I knew her temper was about to go, but at a warning glance from Vex, she kept quiet. Harper, as usual, sat hunched over his plate, never pausing in the methodical inhaling of his food, but never taking his eyes off of Bobby.

Standing up, Bobby went over to the shelf and took down another bottle. Tearing the cap off it, he threw the cap into the sink and sat back down, slamming the bottle onto the table.

Looking around, he glared at the things on the table. "Where the hell is the tomato sauce?"

He roared, turning to glare at Vex.

Vex blinked at him, as usual, completely unmoved by his anger. "There is absolutely no need to shout, Bobby. The sauce is behind you on the stove. I wanted to keep it warm."

"You wanted to keep it warm, huh? Ever thought that some people don't like having to march all over the damn ship to get their dinner?" Bobby spat, turning around with his plate in his hands and slopping a spoonful of sauce onto his plate.

Beka quietly glowered into her glass, her jaw clenched while Vex kept on eating, ignoring him.

Things would have calmed down, if Harper wouldn't have been staring at Bobby, those eerie blue eyes digging into him while he chewed and swallowed mouthfuls of spaghetti.

Bobby glared down at him and finally slammed his plate onto the table. Harper didn't even blink but kept on staring at him, his face a blank mask.

Bobby raised a finger and pointed it at him. He was shaking from suppressed anger.

"You don't stop staring at me like that and I'll rip your eyes out of their sockets in two seconds flat, got it?"

Harper didn't say a word, but immediately dropped his gaze onto the table.

But Bobby wasn't satisfied. He had apparently found a target for his anger, and he wasn't about to let it go. He glared down at Harper.

"That's fucking disgusting." He spat.

When nobody said anything, Beka unclenched her jaw, swallowed and decided to humor him.

"What?"

Bobby nodded down at Harper, who was still stuffing the noodles into his mouth as if this were his last meal.

"That is what's disgusting. The thing can't even eat properly. You know, I didn't mind that it stank, that it acts like a freak and that it sniffs around everywhere like a fucking dog, but that's just disgusting. I'm not going to sit at the same table with that."

Beka sighed. "Bobby, I know you're pissed off right now, but you have no right to take it out on—"

"No right? I've got every right where he's concerned. Just ask Keeler. We've got a free hand with him. We don't even have to feed him if we don't want. But, knowing you and Vex, he's going to get fed whether I want that or not." He turned and glared down at Beka. "I have to put up with the thing sleeping in my room and eating the same food as me. But what I don't have to put up with is having him inhaling his food and stuffing it into his face with those grubby paws of his. It's going to make me hurl one day. So, if he wants to keep on eating at this table, he's going to eat like a normal human being, or he's not going to eat." Without another word, Bobby grabbed his bottle and stormed out of the kitchen.

Everyone sat in tense silence, Vex staring moodily at his plate, Beka glaring at the wall in front of her, and Harper licking his fingers as he glanced back and forth between Beka and Vex.

Finally, Beka sighed and wearily rubbed her face with her hands.

"Fuck." She whispered.

Clenching her hand into a fist, she slammed it onto the table. 

Vex glanced at her. "Rebecca, you know what I'm going to say—"

Beka glared at him. "Yeah, I know Vex. You're going to say that I brought this on myself and that this is all my damn fault. Okay, I admit it, it's my fault. But what's not my fault is that I love him. At times like this, I don't want to. But I do. And that's why he's staying and there's not a damn thing you can say to make me change my mind."

With that, she pushed her chair back and stormed out of the kitchen, calling Bobby's name.

Vex sighed and listlessly stabbed his fork around his pasta until he dropped it and looked around the kitchen. He felt Harper staring at him, his face blank. Vex stared back at him, searching for any signs of a reaction on his face, but finding none.

Finally, he sighed and nodded at Bobby's plate.

"You want to finish his dinner too?"

Wordlessly, Harper shook his head.

Vex frowned at him. I found it strange too. In the week I had known Harper, he had never once refused food. Never. Even if afterwards he had run to the bathroom and thrown everything back up again, he had never refused food.

Harper's gaze drifted over to the door before going back to Vex. That blank face stared at him.

"He'll want it later when Beka's calmed him down."

Vex continued looking at him, staring at him with slightly raised eyebrows. Not letting on that Harper's quiet statement surprised him, he leaned forward.

"Okay. Do you want more?"

Wordlessly, Harper nodded. 

Not saying anything else, Vex gave him another—smaller—helping of pasta.

Harper stared down at it uncertainly before gingerly picking up his fork and a knife, holding them like they were butcher knives. He looked up at Vex.

Vex smiled gently and waved a hand to brush his thoughts aside.

Looking slightly relieved—although it was hard to judge from that blank face—Harper dropped the strange utensils and hunched over his plate, one arm hugging the plate and the other hand shovelling the pasta into his mouth.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Database Records Archive: 10 (10083)

Specific Time: The next morning

I had spent the entire night running a diagnostic on my systems and compiling a list of junk I needed Beka to replace on me. I had no way of actually giving her this list unless she asked, but I'm going to stuff it into the next damage report she asks me to spit out for her. A girl has to be shopped-for once in a while. 

I was interupted in my mulling over whether a new coolant pipe or a new AG field generator were on the top of my shopping list, by my captain creeping down the corridor towards the crew quarters in the wee hours of the morning.

Now, my captain isn't known for being a morning person. I think the last time I saw her up this early was for a salvage operation a few months ago.

Running a tired hand through her unbrushed red hair, she yawned and leaned against the doorway of the crew quarters.

Bobby was snoring on his bed, his back turned to Beka, blissfully unaware of her presence. Vex was fast asleep as well, although he stirred slightly.

Harper was slightly dozing in his corner beside the mattress, curled up with his knees pulled up to his chest and his back against the wall. I say dozing instead of sleeping because he never sleeps. At the slightest noise or shift in the darkness of the room, he'd immediately be torn out of his doze, staring around with wide eyes, trying to see what dangers lurked around him. He'd sit up and stare around himself, hands always going down to his pant leg where he used to keep his knife. 

It would always take him a few hours until he lay back down and went back to dozing, only to jerk awake again at the slightest whisper.

Now wasn't any different. I almost wanted to tell Beka to leave him alone and let him sleep. It wasn't so often that the boy dozed for more than a few hours at a time. But I had to remain silent.

As soon as he felt Beka's eyes on him, or maybe sensed her standing by the door, his eyes flew open and he shoved himself off the floor.

His knees still drawn up, he leaned against the wall, wide awake and staring across the room at Beka.

Beka smiled. "Not a deep sleeper, are we?" she whispered.

A tiny smile tugged on the side of Harper's lips as he stared at her. Motioning with her hands, Beka waved him over.

Without a sound, he scrambled across the floor, his bare feet silent on the metal floor.

As he quietly crawled past Bobby, he didn't take his eyes off him the entire time, and only looked at Beka when he'd reached the door.

Standing up and running a hand through his hair, he looked at Beka, waiting for her to say something.

Glancing at the other two inhabitants of the room and making sure they were still sound asleep, Beka walked down to the kitchen, Harper two paces behind her.

Once they reached the kitchen, Beka headed to the stove and jerked her head at the table for Harper to sit down.

As Beka moved around the kitchen making pancakes, neither Harper nor her said anything. Beka isn't very talkative in the morning, and Harper in those days didn't talk much either. Besides, silence was safer for both of them.

Harper didn't take his eyes off of Beka as she made the pancakes and then pulled plates, cutlery and syrup out of cupboards, his blue eyes warily following her around. If Beka minded, she didn't let on.

Only once did Harper break the silence. When Beka reached for the sugar bowl to put some sugar into the batter, his eyes slightly widened. It was the same sugar bowl which he and Pez had taken turns dipping their fingers into and marvelling over its sweet taste.

"What's that?" Harper asked, nodding his head at the jar in Beka's hand.

Beka frowned slightly over the question, but then quickly let the frown fade and answered him while mixing the batter with a spoon and generally acting as if somebody asked her what sugar was everyday of her life.

"It's sugar. It's really sweet and you can put it on anything. Just don't eat too much of it. It'll rot your teeth." She grinned at him over her shoulder as she poured the batter into a pan and swirled it around.

I could see Harper quietly whisper the new word to himself for a while as he slowly leaned back and pulled his feet up to sit cross legged on the chair.

He even let his steady gaze slip for a moment when he looked down at the table and traced a few scratches in it. 

He was slowly, in infinitesimally small steps, starting to let his guard down.

When the pancakes were ready and Beka brushed a strand of tired hair off her forehead, she slid the pancakes onto two plates and put them on the table.

Pouring syrup onto both of them, she was about to hand Harper the plate. As he started reaching for it, she yanked it out of his grasp.

"Not so fast, Mr. Greedy. First, what's the name of the stuff I just put on the pancakes?"

Harper scowled at her and looked like he was about to start swearing, but instead, shoved his hunger out of the way for a minute, mulled it over and then mumbled: "Syrup.", remembering the word from previous breakfasts when Beka had made a point to tell him the name of every single thing on his plate when she realized he had no idea what he was eating was called.

Nodding, Beka set the plate down in front of him. 

He immediately leaned forward, his eyes widening from the constant hunger which still plagued him. One arm snaked around the plate, pulling it closer to himself, and the other hand was about to grab the first pancake to stuff it into his mouth before Beka changed her mind about feeding him.

"Not so fast, mister! Put down that pancake." Beke commanded, putting her own plate beside Harper and sitting down.

Slowly lowering the pancake to his plate, Harper stared at Beka, probably wondering if she had finally decided to follow Bobby's advice and stop feeding him.

If Beka sensed these fears, she didn't let on.

Reaching over, she took a fork and a knife from the pile of cutlery she had thrown onto the table. Nodding with her head, she told Harper to grab himself a pair too.

Frowning at her and then the pile of strange metal tools, Harper picked up a spoon and a knife. Looking back and forth between Beka's pair and his own, he realized his mistake and dropped the spoon and picked up a fork.

Beka realized she had missed a step. "First of all, a knife is obviously a knife, right?"

She got a blank stare for that one. I had to admit that it was quite an idiotic comment, but then again, she's my captain. I can't complain. Besides, I'm not a genius one hundred percent of the time either.

"The one with the three pointy edges is a fork, and the one lying on the table that's all round is a spoon. Got it?"

She got a slow nod from Harper as he stared down at the utensils he was clutching in his hands, trying to remember the strange names. 

"Next thing, we don't clutch them like they're butcher knives. We eat with them, we don't kill with them." Leaning over, Beka pulled the knife and fork out of Harper's grasp and then bent his fingers around them properly. He flinched slightly when she touched him, but she ignored him and continued bending his fingers around the metal, but afterwards, she moved away and didn't make another move towards him. 

"Now, we always have our fork in our left hand, except when we aren't using the knife. We always have the most important one in right hand."

She got another blank stare. This blank stare didn't mean that he thought she was being an idiot and asking dumb questions, but this blank stare meant he had no idea what she was talking about.

Beka realized her mistake the same time I did. I chuckled quietly as I thought over how in the world my captain was going to teach Harper his right hand from his left. 

Apparently, that was one box of spare parts my captain didn't want to open that morning.

"Okay, scratch that. Which hand do you always keep your knife in, Harper? Which hand do you normally eat with?"

He raised his right hand. "Okay, then that's your more important hand. When you're eating, you stick the more needed utensil into your important hand, okay? Like when you just need a fork, you stick that in that hand. When you need to cut something, you put the knife in that hand and move your fork to your other, uhm, let's say your unimportant hand."

I winced over Beka's brief and completely inaccurate distinction between right and left and right away had a bunch of images flickering across my mind over what would happen the day Harper ate dinner with a left handed person. I dimissed that thought into my bin of random thoughts and went back to watching my captain teaching my future engineer how to eat with cutlery.

"Alright, now, you stab whatever you want to cut with the fork like this—then you cut a chunk off with the knife like so—and then you stick the cut piece into your mouth using your fork." With that, she crammed a piece of slowly cut pancake into her mouth and chewed.

She pointed at Harper's plate with the tip of her fork and nodded at him, her mouth full.

Frowning uncertainly, Harper hunched over his plate, staring down at his pancake, his fingers bent uncomfortably around the strange metal utensils in his hands.

Stabbing the fork into the pancake, he lost his grip on the fork and dropped it on the floor. Swearing and mumbling apologies at Beka to which the latter waved a dismissive hand, Harper dove under the table, got his fork and then tried painstakinly rearranging his fingers around the fork and knife the way they had been. 

Beka silently watched him and didn't interfere, and at the end, Harper held up his hands. Beka nodded and Harper went back to stabbing and cutting his pancake.

It didn't work out too great right away. He dropped his fork again and got his hands mixed up when trying to put it back into his hand. Swearing, he threw both of them onto the plate and scowled at Beka.

"Why the hell can't I eat with my hands? It's so much easier." He muttered.

Beka chewed her pancake, and blinked at him. "Cause nobody eats with their hands, Harper. Not unless they're living in the gutters. You're living on a ship now. You have to eat like it."

Harper scowled still. "If  we's all good an' able to eat with our hands, then why'd anybody come up with these dumb ways of eating? It takes longer and it's fucking complicated."

Beka laughed. "Harper, it's not hard, you're just not used to it. It takes practice. Now, as to why we eat with cutlery when we can eat with our hands, it's just healthier, cleaner and most importantly, because I said so."

Grumbling, his eyes darting back and forth between Beka and his plate, Harper finally either gave up or accepted Beka's words for the truth and went back to wrestling with his cutlery.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

An hour later, Harper sneaked back into his corner and curled up beside the mattress. In minutes, he had closed his eyes and to all the universe looked like he was fast asleep.

Beka gave him a grin just before he closed his eyes and then quietly ran down the corridor to her own room and leaped into her bed. Pulling the covers over her head and messing up her hair, she lay down and also 'faded off to sleep', although Beka's impression wasn't as impressive as Harper's.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Vex rolled over and sleepily opened his eyes and stretched, quietly calling over to Bobby to wake up.

He glanced over to the corner and smiled when he saw Harper quietly sleeping. I chuckled. Vex was probably just thinking that Harper had finally gotten over his insomnia. Oh, if he only knew.

Moments later, Bobby rolled over and sat up, nearly hitting his head on the bunk above him and letting lose a string of curses. 

By the time Vex turned his attention back to Harper, the latter had pushed himself into a sitting position and was yawning and sleepily running a hand through his hair.

Suddenly, a sleepy Beka stuck her messy head into the room and mumbled that she was going to make breakfast.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

At breakfast, I thought I'd short out my life support systems I was laughing so hard. 

Harper and Beka casually sat down and Beka tossed a pancake onto Harper's plate and poured some syrup on it. The latter immediately reached over, picked a fork and knife out of the pile of cutlery in the middle of the table, put each of them into the correct hands (I cheered. Quietly of course) and then started stabbing and cutting his pancake with them as if he had been doing it all his life. Beka didn't even look at him, but went to pour herself a cup of coffee.

Vex was eating his own breakfast, but shot Beka a quiet grin when Bobby wasn't looking, and raised his eyebrows proudly at Harper when the latter glanced at him. I swear a small smile tugged on Harper's lips. 

But Bobby's reaction was priceless. He had sat down, grumbling over my bunks being too low—yeah, and every part of Bobby Jensen is perfect too—and had dug into his breakfast without even glancing at Harper.

He only noticed when he glanced up and mumbled that Beka should get him a cup of coffee too. He was about to look back down at his own plate, when he stopped and stared at Harper. Harper didn't even glance at him when he felt Bobby looking at him, but continued stabbing and cutting his pancake. He did it slowly, but put such an air of ease into it that Bobby must have thought that ten years had passed between his outburst at dinner the previous night and this morning. 

His eyes widening and his eyebrows shooting up, Bobby paused with his fork in midair, staring at Harper. 

I think that that was one of the few times I nearly fried my systems laughing and one of the only times I ever saw Bobby Jensen speechless.

Smiling to herself, Beka tried to smother her grin as she handed Bobby his coffee.

Turning to Harper, she asked him if he'd like another pancake. Nodding, Harper mumbled a reply out of a full mouth and then asked if he could have some syrup too, laying emphasis of the word. It would probably be appropriate to explain at this point that, previously to this morning, Harper had always called syrup 'the brown sticky stuff that tastes so damn sweet and good'.

Bobby blinked, threw his fork onto his plate and went to get his bottle of whisky from the shelf, saying he couldn't deal with this crap this early in the morning.

When his back was turned, a tiny, secretive smile flew between Beka and Harper, with Vex quietly looking on.

Data Records Archive: I don't know, give me a moment

Specific Time: Can't tell you yet.

Looking back over the records I've been sifting through, I'm just starting to realize I haven't seen many from the going on's of my crew during the day. I can't for the life of me find any either—wait, wait. There's some tangled up back here in my memory banks. They're stored in the 10088 files. I really have to get Harper to come and clean this up. It's a mess. According to my memory files, Beka was ten years old one day, and according to the next file, Tyr was flying me to go pick up that old sack of bones. Not very organized. Sorry. I'll get Harper to fix it. He's still fixing my slipstream drive.

Wait just a minute, there! Got them. Alright. Sorry for the delay. Don't blame me. I don't have an AI.

Data Records Archive: 11 (10083)

Specific Time: The same day

Beka and Harper's little surprise for Bobby hadn't done much for his temper. He was still pissed off because of his little accident with my cracked pipes, and about the fact that my slipstream drive had blown to pieces a few weeks ago. 

My poor old drive had been malfunctioning for weeks already. A month ago streaming had been  straining enough, but after that, Beka barely managed to sputter through slipstream to the nearest exit, never mind actually get where we wanted to go. Not having the time or the money to stop for spare parts, Beka had tried to force my old drive to cooperate, but after a few more slips, it gave out on us. We had hardly been able to limp to earth, never mind stream away from it. Now I couldn't even open up a portal for Beka, never mind force the engine to take us directly to San Ska Ree.

Bobby nearly hit my ceiling when he heard that we would have to limp to San Ska Ree through normal space, which would take about another week, but Beka soothed his temper by promising to help Vex fix it.

But between fixing up the pile of junk Keeler had given us to run off as worthy supplies—she was afraid that the Than we were delivering it to would refuse to accept the crap and they'd have to fly back to earth for another shipment. We both shuddered at the thought—and keeping an eye on Bobby's temper, Beka couldn't get anywhere near the drive.

So, Vex did it. 

That day after breakfast, Vex was just cleaning up the dishes, when Harper slipped away to go and see where Beka and Bobby had gotten themselves. 

Moments later, the sound of a bottle crashing to the floor and angry yelling and cursing drifted down the corridor. Vex dropped his towel and quickly ran down the hall.

Bobby was towering over Harper, who had crammed himself into the corner, staring at Bobby with wide, terrified eyes as the latter screamed at him. 

"How many times did I tell you not to sneak around here like a fucking rat?" He yelled down.

Harper didn't answer but just stared up at him, his eyes darting around as if looking for a way to escape.

Vex quickly glanced between Harper, Bobby and the broken pieces of the shattered whisky bottle lying by Bobby's feet.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, interupting Bobby's ranting.

Clenching his jaw, Bobby glared down at Harper. "The freak snuck up behind me, breathing down my damn neck and scaring the nillies out of me so bad I dropped my bottle. The piece of crap wasted an entire bottle of whisky." He spat, gritting his teeth.

Swallowing his fear, Harper's voice piped up from the floor. "I'll clean it up, sir. I will. Just give me a minute and I'll pick it all up and get it right and clean 'gain."

"Yeah, and what about the whisky, huh? You going to lick that up and spit it back into the bottle?"

Silence greeted this as Harper curled himself up even more, obviously expecting Bobby to smack him at any moment.

Seeing Bobby's temper rising at the silence, Vex calmly stepped between them.

"Bobby, go and see if Beka needs you to pilot for a while. The auto-pilot is still jumpy and she needs to go and look over that last crate of supplies Keeler gave us. Harper, you come with me. I have to fix the slipstream drive anyway. You can come and keep me company."

He didn't take his eyes off of Bobby as he quietly talked. Glaring at him, Bobby spat onto my floor—he _spat_ onto my floor! Out of all the rude things…never mind— cursed and stomped off towards the cockpit.

Leaning over, Vex picked up the shards of glass and went to the kitchen to throw them out. When he came back, he reached into the crew quarters and took his tool belt off a hook and hung it around his waist. The leather was worn and a soft light brown. Various tools glimmered in the dim light of the corridor. 

He glanced down at Harper, who was still cowering in the corner. "Come on. The slipstream drive won't walk over here, you know."

Without another word, Vex walked towards the engine room. After a brief silence, Harper pushed himself up and quietly walked after Vex, exactly two paces behind him. 

Just like Beka, Vex had gotten used to Harper's silent way of unintentionally sneaking around behind them, never making a sound. After a while, neither of them needed to hear him to know he was there. They just felt him there.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     

This was the first time any of us discovered Harper actually knew a thing or two about machines. I think Vex only took Harper with him to keep him away from Bobby and to give him something to do instead of sitting in his corner in the crew quarters by himself the entire day.

Walking into the engine room, Vex sighed, put his hands on his hips and gave my slipstream drive an exasperated stare.

The old drive sat in the middle of the room, a red emergency light blinking on top of it, and a faint curl of smoke snaking out of it which wound its way towards the ceiling where it twisted around wires and coolant pipes. I couldn't help but feel bad, even though I had no control over the drive and the fact that it broke wasn't my fault.

"Well, it's fried for sure." Vex sighed as he walked over to it.

Harper moved over slightly and quickly looked it over. He shook his head. "It ain't that bad." He mumbled.

Vex frowned and turned around. Had I any eyebrows, they'd be in the ceiling.

"I beg your pardon?"

Harper shrugged and pointed at the source of the smoke. "Smoke smells like burning plastic. Must be the coating from the wires. Must have fried together or something and screwed up something inside the drive. Shouldn't be hard to fix."

Vex stared at him for another moment, before wiping the surprise off his face and turning back to the drive. 

"Well, Harper, let's see if you're as good as you sound." 

He crouched down and unscrewed a panel of the drive. Immediately, more smoke engulfed him. Coughing and waving his hand in front of him, Vex squinted and stared into the drive. 

A bundle of tangled and welded together wires stared back at him. 

Slowly, Vex turned and stared at Harper, who shrugged in response, his way of dismissing the subject, and not wanting to launch into a long explanation.

Chuckling, Vex sat down on the floor and pulled out a knife and slowly started cutting the fragile wires apart. Squinting through the drive, Vex must have spied more fried wires.

Rummaging around in his tool belt, he pulled out a screw driver and another knife and handed them to Harper.

"You can go to the other side if you want. Take off the panel and try to get these wires to come apart. Be careful though. Don't break any wires or fry yourself."

Without a word, Harper crawled to the other side of the drive, took off the panel and set to work cutting wires out of the plastic ball of welded wires in front of him.

As they sat on the floor, cutting, Vex glanced at Harper.

"So, I'm guessing Keeler didn't only hire you because of your ability to guard his precious supplies."

Harper didn't look at him. "I worked in the yard for him for a couple of years."

"The yard?"

A shrug. "Shipyard. Keeler would get people to go and dig up old wrecks for him, then he'd make us spruce 'em up nicely and make 'em look new. Then he'd sell 'em as brand spanking new ships."

Vex smiled. "And people actually believed him?"

Harper gave him a tiny grin as he cut another wire. "If you're good enough, you can make a bunch of rusty spare parts look like a new engine. Ain't take that much talent."

Vex laughed quietly, then glanced at him again. "So, you know your way around ships then?"

Another shrug. "Little bit. The ships we spruced up weren't ever decent quality like this one—"

I beamed with pride. I have to remember to show this to Andromeda. She'll turn rusty from jealousy. 

"—and they only had sensors and basic life support crap. Never had much in the way of weapons or slipstream drives."

Vex nodded. 

When they were done, Vex pulled out a soldering wand, put on goggles and tossed another pair to Harper. The latter stared down at them, confused.

"It's to protect your eyes from the sparks. I take it Keeler never insisted on safety precautions for his employees, huh?"

Harper scowled. "He ain't ever give a hang 'bout any of us. We're all expendable as he goes 'round saying. One of us falls of a ship and breaks his neck or fries herself on wires or burns himself from sparks like these, he ain't care. He can get more of us any time he wants."

He put on his goggles and scrambled over to Vex and watched him with wide eyes as Vex started welding the right wires together again. 

Vex saw his amazement. "I also take it Keeler never gave you fancy tools to use, eh?"

Harper shook his head slowly, still gaping at the soldering wand.

"Always said if we needed something, we could make it. We used chunks of metal as nails and rusty coils as these things." He nodded at the screw driver on the ground.

Chuckling, Vex turned off the wand and gave it to Harper. After crawling to the other side of the drive, Harper struggled to turn it on, and Vex leaned over to help him.

Immediately, Harper flinched back, his eyes sparking with the old fear and suspicion. His grip on the wand changed by instinct as he clutched it the same way someone would clutch a knife.

Seeing Harper's reaction, Vex shuffled back a few paces and calmly pointed at the switch on the wand.

"Turn that towards me. Careful with the way you hold it, though. It's extremely powerful. Don't turn it on until you know exactly what you want to do with it." He said quietly, his calm voice soothing Harper's instinctual fear.

After a few moments, Harper held the wand the right way and grabbed two wires with one hand while turning it on and directing the powerful stream of heat and light on the wires. Squinting through his goggles, he yelped when he slightly burned his fingers on the wires, but managed to turn the wand off before dropping the wires and sticking his fingers into his mouth.

Vex caught the dropped wand and made sure it was turned off before turning his attention back to Harper. 

"Let me see the fingers." He said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Wincing slightly, Harper pulled his fingers out of his mouth and held them up for Vex to see. They were a deep red. Apparently Harper had been burned more than I had originally thought.

Vex rummaged around in his tool belt until he pulled out a cold pack. Rubbing it in his hands and cracking the crystals inside the package, he waited until it was cold enough. Then he held the package out to Harper.

Harper jerked away from him, clutching his fingers closer to him. "Don't touch."

Vex didn't move. "I have no intention of going anywhere near your fingers. Just put this pack on them. It'll cool the burn and make the pain go away."

Wary blue eyes darting back and forth between Vex and the package he held, Harper winced again as the burn throbbed.

"Drop it." He said, his voice fearful but demanding. Knowing Harper was afraid that Vex would attack him the moment Harper reached for the pack and let his guard down, Vex wordlessly tossed the package onto the ground by Harper's feet.

Not taking his eyes off of Vex, Harper's good hand snaked down, grabbed the package and gently wrapped it around his burnt fingers.

Vex didn't move as Harper cowered against the wall, the package clutched around his fingers, his eyes never leaving Vex.

Finally, Harper pulled the package off his fingers and tossed it back to Vex. 

"Better?" Vex asked, putting the package back into his belt. Both Vex and I knew that he wouldn't get a thank you. Where Harper came from, you took what you got without asking any questions and without thanking anybody for it. Life was too short to go around thanking everybody for everything. 

Harper nodded, before slowly letting his fear recede and blinking. The tension faded from his body and his eyes grew softer and less wary. He glanced at the wires.

Vex saw his glance and slid the soldering wand across to floor to him. "I think you missed a few wires." He said, quietly.

Carefully grabbing two more wires, Harper turned the wand on and welded them together, making sure to keep his hand far away from the hot stream sparking off the wires.

From the doorway, Beka crossed her arms as she quietly looked at them. I knew she'd been standing there the entire time Vex and Harper had been in there. She didn't say a word when she saw Harper burning his fingers and nearly sucumbing to panic and fear when he thought Vex would hurt him. She didn't even move when she saw Harper take the cooling package and then later toss it back to Vex without a word of thanks. 

Only when they went back to welding wires, did Beka let a small smile flicker across her face before she turned and walked back to the cockpit to relieve Bobby from flying duty before he broke something.

As was often the case, I knew exactly what my captain was thinking.

Little by little, Harper was starting to let down his guard and adjust to the new life he had been pulled into. His instincts were still engrained within him and would constantly surface at a moment's notice, but his mistrust and wariness were slowly fading. 

It reminded me of a new part having to adjust to an old engine. Maybe it needed a few adjustments and tweeks from someone to fit in properly, and it needed time to learn how to work with the old parts of the engine, but after a while, the part would fit right in and, should it be seperated from the engine, the entire engine would break down.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

From that day on, Harper helped Vex everyday. Not only did Vex let Harper follow him around everywhere so that Bobby wouldn't decide to take his temper out of Harper's bones rather than my poor walls, but also because Vex could see Harper had a natural talent where machinery was concerned.

Harper followed him around everywhere, watching Vex fix stuff and explain why he was doing what and what tools he had to use and how and why. Harper hungrily drank it all up. Crouching beside Vex or standing a few paces beside him, Harper would silently watch, listen and learn.

Vex would be careful never to come too close to him, and never touched him, even if Harper was about to weld his own fingers together, but instead, let him learn from his own mistakes, rather then break the very fragile trust which was starting to form between the two of them. 

Vex never asked Harper any personal questions. He never even asked Harper how old he was. Beka had asked him once, but had only gotten a blank stare and then a shrug. Keeler had sworn he was twenty five, and Bobby had shrugged when Beka asked him and mumbled that he was probably over twenty. But Beka, Vex and I all knew he couldn't be a day over twenty. Although he had seen and done enough to last an entire life time, he looked much younger than he actually was, but I knew that he wasn't anywhere near as old as Keeler made him out to be. 

After running an analysis, I wasn't a bit surprised when the results came back.

Harper was nineteen. 

In the three following days it took us to reach San Ska Ree, Harper had two showers, slept a total of ten hours, Beka taught him how to eat spaghetti with a fork and a spoon, Bobby hardly said a word to him, and Vex taught him how to fix my sensors and AG generator until he could have done it blind folded.


	6. Chapter 6

The Diaries 

Chapter 6

Database Records Archive: 12 (10083)

Specific Time: Two days after Harper and Vex fixed the slipstream drive

Beka reached up and turned on the com system from where she sat in the piloting chair.

"Vex, are you sure the drive is working? I don't want this entire ship to come apart the minute I open a portal."

I shuddered at the thought.

A laugh carried over the com as Vex finished drying a few dishes in the kitchen. "Beka, the drive is purring like a kitten right now. It's nearly better now that it was when your father installed it ten years ago."

"If you say so." Beka said doubtfully, as she turned the com off and grabbed the controls. Punching in the coordinates for the Magnesiate system, which was two slips away from San Ska Ree, Beka leaned back and called over her shoulder that everyone should hold onto something.

Punching a button beside her, she opened a portal and shoved the controls forward as the silver chains of the slipstream grabbed me and pulled me in.

Her eyes glued to the flickering threads of electricity which we were riding through, Beka yanked the controls around, her eyes searching for the right exit. 

A groan rose from my old and straining walls as Beka forced me to pick up speed and we went hurling through the stream until she smoothly yanked me over to the right exit.

Moments later, the stream threw me out, leaving me gliding through empty space, small residual sparks of electricity dancing on my hull. 

Beka let out a deep breath, obviously as relieved as I was that the drive had worked properly. 

"Engage auto-pilot." She said, yawning and releasing the controls as she flexed her aching hands.

Back in those days, the woman who would later single handely steer an entire fleet of ships through a treacherous slipstream route couldn't handle doing more than one jump in succession. I'm proud to say that the best slipstream pilot in the known worlds learned how to navigate her first slipstream route using my controls and my drive, while her father guided her hands clutching my controls. 

Yup, that's right. She learned how to stream not on a Glorious Heritage Cruiser, but a salvage ship which didn't even have weapons back then. 

What? I'm allowed to be proud. I don't have an AI.

Beka unclipped her seatbelt and slowly stretched.

Suddenly, I spied Harper in the corridor, curled up against the wall, his eyes closed and his face a slight shade of green. Oh no. I had completely forgotten about the fact that he had never streamed before. Looking at him, I knew he was going to hurl all over my deck any moment.

I glanced back at Beka, who was sitting sprawled out in my piloting chair, not appearing to have the slightest intentions of moving any time soon. 

I grew frantic as I wanted to scream at Beka to come and help Harper, but I couldn't. As usual, I had to grovel in my painful silence, unable to help my crew in any way except witnessing their every move. At times like these, I resent not having an AI. If I did, then this panic wouldn't be engulfing me and this anguish wouldn't threaten to fry my systems and Harper wouldn't be about to puke all over my corridor.

Go to Harper! I silently screamed the words at my captain, who was running a hand through her hair, staring out the windshield, as Harper rocked back and forth on the floor, biting his lip.

Had I had a heart, I would have had a heart attack by now.

But, as usual, my inability to communicate with my crew was subconsciously aided by the pure and simple fact that my crew are all living beings, able to convey emotions in all situations even if they don't want to. The exact opposite of me.

Harper started quietly moaning, nausea engulfing him as he rocked back and forth of the floor. 

Beka's eyes widened slightly and she sat up when she heard the noise. She immediately realized who it was.

"Harper?" she called down the corridor, leaning over the arm of my chair. When the only response she heard was another moan, she pushed herself out of her chair and quickly ran down the corridor towards Harper's rocking form.

Crouching down beside him, she lay a gentle hand on his back, but he immediately jerked away from her as if she had scalded at him, and glared at her, his eyes filled with that old mistrust and fear. 

"Don't touch." He whispered harshly, trying to keep the contents of his stomach down.

Beka shuffled backwards slightly and pulled her hand back, just like Vex had done a few days ago. "I won't touch you, Harper. But you're feeling nauseous right now. You're going to hurl all over this floor any second and that wouldn't be a pretty sight. You have to drag yourself over to the bathroom and get to the toilet. Can you crawl over there by yourself?" she asked gently. 

He nodded, biting his lips as his face turned even greener. Uncurling himself, he crawled across the floor into the bathroom and dragged himself over to the toilet.

Moments after he leaned over it, his nausea got the better of him, and his stomach violently regurgitated his lunch and his breakfast and whatever else hadn't been fully digested yet.

Even after everything that could possibly come out of him had been spewed into the toilet, dry heaves clutched him and he gagged relentlessly until they subsided.

Nearly collapsing into the toilet, he reached up and weakly flushed the toilet before turning around and collapsing against the cold porcelain. He wearily looked up at Beka, who was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

Reaching over, Beka took a glass down from the shelf beside the mirror above the sink and filled it with water. Handing it to Harper, she stepped back, waiting until he had stopped shaking, and the color of his face had returned to normal. He held the glass in his hands, staring down at it. 

Pulling himself up using the counter, Harper set the untouched glass beside the sink, leaning against the counter looking as if he might collapse at any moment.

"Harper, drink the water. It'll get the taste out of your mouth."

He weakly shook his head, nearly falling over and clutching the counter so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Not drinking water." He gasped out. 

Beka sighed in exasperation and ran down to the kitchen from where she grabbed a can of Sparky from the fridge. Opening the can, she came back to the bathroom and handed it to Harper.

He let go of the counter with one hand and grabbed the can with a shaking hand. Taking a sip, he swirled it around his mouth and then turned and spat it into the sink. After doing it one more time, he gulped down a few mouthfuls of the sweet soda, before setting it onto the counter.

His legs still too weak to hold him up, he let himself slide down until he was sitting on the floor. He wearily ran a shaking hand through his hair. 

Beka crouched down beside him and leaned against the doorway. 

After a few moments of silence and the last shudders of nausea had seeped out of him, Harper took a deep breath and looked at her.

"What the frigging hell was that?"

Beka smiled. "Slipstream."

"What?"

"It's what the drive you and Vex fixed lets us do. It's basically like travelling in another dimension. Systems are all connected in another dimension by routes, and when you travel in slipstream, you can enter in one system, then ride along any route you want until you see the exit you need, then leave slipstream and you're in the system you wanted to be in. It takes a lot of practice until you can do it without smashing up your ship or winding up thousands of light years from where you want to go, but it's a lot quicker than flying through normal space."

Harper was staring at her with wide eyes, all thoughts of his nausea gone.

"What's the thing called again?"

"Slipstream."

"And it lets us go in another dimension?"

Beka nodded. 

"That's frigging amazing."

"I know. It takes a while to get used to. I'm sorry. I should have realized you'd get sick. It can be a pretty rough ride for first timers, but you'll get used to it."

He stared at her, horrified. "You mean we's gonna do it again?"

Beka laughed. "Yup. Two more jumps to San Ska Ree. But trust me, you'll get used to it."

Suddenly, Bobby's voice carried down the corridor, yelling at Beka to get a move on and did she want to grow roots here or something?

Waving a dismissive hand towards the voice and smiling at the tension which crept into Harper the moment he heard Bobby's voice, Beka stood up and started walking to the cockpit.

"Come on. You can sit up front with me. It's not that bad when you're sitting in the front. Besides," she smiled. "It's one thing to hear about slipstream, and its another to see it."

Warily, Harper pulled himself up and padded down the corridor after Beka, two paces behind her.

Reaching the cock pit, Beka collapsed into the chair, clipped on her seat belt and disengaged auto-pilot. As she punched in the coordinates to the next system, Harper quietly crept up beside her, and curiously watched her fingers.

Beka glanced at him. "Coordinates to the next system."

Harper frowned. "Thought you says that you need ta find the right exit yourself."

Beka smiled. "First of all, the past tense of say is said, not says, and second of all, the coordinates just help me see when I've reached the right exit. Flying along with right routes and finding the exit is still my job."

Grabbing hold of the controls, she pressed a button, and a portal opened before me. The electricity nipped at my hull as the stream reached out to grab me.

Harper flinched when the portal opened and crouched down, grabbing onto the piloting chair.

Beka laughed. "It's okay. That's just the doorway of the slipstream." She jerked her head behind her. "If you want, you can stay behind the railing behind me."

Harper quickly scrambled across the floor and crouched down behind the railing beside Beka's chair, clutching the lower railing with both hands as he stared at the weaving chains of the slipstream waiting for Beka to move closer.

"Ready?" Beka asked over her shoulder, her eyes glued to the stream before her, her hands clutching the controls. 

Harper nodded and licked his dry lips. "Yeah." I could see excitement and fear both fighting to dominate his face as they both took turns flickering across his thin, pale face.

Taking a deep breath, leaning back and shoving the controls forward, Beka shot me towards the stream, which grabbed me and yanked me in.

Harper nearly fell over, but tightly held onto the railing as the silver cables flickered around me. 

Crouching on the floor, he stared wide eyed at the brilliant chains of electricity glittering in sharp contrast to the normal darkness of space which usually engulfed me.

Like a diamond shining amid lumps of black coal.

Like Harper.

I hurled through the stream, Beka yanking me around the twists and turns, trying to stay in the well travelled route which led to our next destination. I frowned when she took a slightly wrong turn in the stream and ended up on a route which was longer than the short cut we usually took. But then I remembered Harper. I realized that she was trying to make the ride as smooth as possible.

Riding along well travelled routes is always safer and easier. Not only are they smoother and thus, make the entire journey much less nauseous for first timers, but well worn routes were easier to navigate, since the route had been frequented by so many ships that the stream had been slightly bent into the routes path, creating less guess work for the pilot and allowing him or her to simply clutch the controls and letting the route guide the ship.

Finally, we reached our exit and Beka yanked me over and the stream gently spat us out, leaving us drifting through space.

Harper was still staring wide eyed out the window, his hands clutching the railing. He took a deep breath when Beka engaged auto-pilot once more and unclipped her seat belt.

She twisted around in the chair and grinned at him. 

"So, how was it?"

He gave her a tiny smile, filled with amazement. "It was frigging unbelievable." He breathed.

Beka laughed. "You'll get used to it."

He shook his head, letting go of the railing. "You can't ever get used to something that pretty. It ain't the point."

Beka stared at him, speechless for a moment. She looked like she was about to say something.

Then, shaking her head, she pushed herself up and shoved whatever thought she had out of her mind. 

Moments later, Vex's voice drifted down the corridor, telling them that dinner was ready. Jerking her head towards the kitchen, Beka smiled down at Harper and told him to get his ass into the kitchen.

Database Records Archive: 13 (10083)

Specific Time: The next morning

We arrived at San Ska Ree this morning. After having done that last jump with Harper beside her, Beka didn't think that he would be able to hold down his dinner if she did another jump that day. So, after arguing with Bobby and telling a relieved Harper that they'd be drifting through normal space until the next day, she went to bed and got up early this morning to do the last jump.

I'm proud to say Harper only got dizzy this time and his face got slightly paler, but he managed to keep his breakfast down. 

Beka pulled the controls back and slowed me down as we drifted through the planet's atmosphere. When we were close enough, she asked me to hail the docking patrol.

Moments later, a jade Than's face appeared on my viewscreen and asked Beka what she was there for. My captain ran a hand through her hair and told her that she was delivering supplies for someone. 

The Than nodded, obviously not caring whether my cargo hold was full of medical supplies or missiles, and told Beka she could land.

Thanking her, Beka cut off the connection and then pulled me over to the space port and we drifted around until Beka found an open berth and gently set me down.

Cutting the engine and unclipping her seatbelt, she yelled over her shoulder that they were there.

Bobby mumbled a 'finally' from where he sat at the table, pouring over a flexi, and Vex sighed with relief. Vex had always liked planets better than space. Said he loved looking at trees and flowers growing in their natural habitats, rather than pots and artificial gardens.

I have always thought it a pity that Vex never lived to meet Trance. 

Beka walked into the kitchen and glanced at Bobby and Vex.

"Vex, you don't have to come with us if you don't want. Go and party around in those natural reserves the Than have. You'll love them. Bobby and I'll deliver the supplies, then I get to go shopping and then we're leaving."

Vex chuckled softly. "I thought you were looking forward having some time off to stretch your legs."

Beka sighed. "What I'm looking forward to is getting back to earth and getting the other half of our money from that dirt bag."

"Keeler."

"Whatever."

Bobby glanced up from the flexi. "What about the kid?"

"What about him?"

"He ain't staying here by himself."

Beka frowned. "And why not? He'll just be in the way when we're delivering the supplies, and I don't feel like dragging him around when I'm shopping. He'll steal everything in sight."

"Baby, are you so naïve that you really think this wreck will be here by the time we get back if we leave the kid here by himself?"

I fumed. He called me a wreck. He called me a _wreck_! Oh, it's times like these that I wished I had an internal defence system like Andromeda.

"Bobby, delivering the supplies will take about ten minutes. The Than is going to meet us right here in this space port. You can come back to the Maru in like five minutes."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "And did hell just froze over?"

"What?"

I blinked. What?

Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes. "Baby, I know you. When you go shopping in decent places like these, you buy and buy until you can hardly walk from all the damn packages of crap you bought. Now tell me, if a mugger grabs you from behind, how the hell are you going to get away in one piece? Bludgen him to death with your bags? By the time you drop your packages and pull out your gun, he'll already have slit your throat. I hate shopping and I hate bumming around in those markets, but I'd rather waste an afternoon and cart around bags of crap than have you lying in some gutter dying from a slit throat." He grumbled, the loathing for shopping evident in his voice.

It's times like these when I find myself inclined to change my opinion about Bobby Jensen. True, he was insulting and rude with anyone he didn't know or didn't like—and there were many of these people living in the universe—and true he was a slob, had an awful temper and drank like there was no tomorrow, but he did care about Beka. It's the one reason I've been able to tolerate his presence. If there was nobody else in this universe he cared about then it was Beka. 

Bobby loved Beka. Sometimes he had a hard time showing it, and his temper might run away with him at times, but he loved Beka. And that was one thing I had never doubted about him. Never. Even though he lied about everything and was a despicable human being in all other aspects, he never lied about loving Beka and would walk to the ends of the universe to keep her safe.

Beka put her hands on her hips and smiled down at him. Reaching over, she ruffled his hair, and got a scowl and a glare from Bobby, who got up and stomped out of the kitchen, yelling over his shoulder for her not to forget her gun. 

Laughing at him, Beka followed him down the corridor towards the crew quarters. When Bobby continued down towards my cock pit to put the safety lock on my controls, Beka stopped in front of the crew quarters, leaning against the doorway.

Harper was sitting in his usual corner beside the mattress, his knees drawn up to his chest, his blue eyes staring blankly at her.

Beka gave him a sad smile. "Sorry about this kiddo, but I have to throw you under lock and key while we're out. All of us are heading out and won't be back for a few hours, and, well, you know what Bobby thinks."

Harper nodded, understanding. 

Beka jerked her head over to the storage closet across the hall from the bathroom. "You can stay in the closet until we get back. It isn't too roomy, but there's extra sheets and stuff in there and you can just sleep for a couple of hours."

Harper blinked at her. "I don't sleep."

Beka raised an eyebrow, a wry smile on her lips. "Okay, fine. Then don't sleep. You can sit there and count the cracks in the walls if you want."

Not answering, Harper pushed himself off the floor and padded across the floor to the  door and then pulled open the door of the closet.

Sitting down in the far corner, he immediately pushed the piles of clean white sheets away from him and settled down onto the cold, metal floor.

Beka frowned. "You can sit on the—"

'I'll get 'em dirty." His quiet voice interupted her.

Beka abruptly shut her mouth and stared down at him for a moment, chewing her lip thoughfully before she sighed.

"Harper, look. I'm really sorry about this. You know I don't want to do this, but Bobby will blow the ceiling off this ship if I don't."

Harper nodded. "I know." His eyes drifted onto the floor as he hugged himself, pulled his knees up and leaned back against the wall.

Beka sighed again, and seemed torn between slamming the door or telling Bobby to go to hell and letting Harper come with her.

But she had been stabbed in the back too many times in her life to throw her trust into a person she had only known for about a week. Well, she didn't have to trust him, but she also refused to give him her tough attitude. Her heart was being torn to pieces over this, but I know her cautious mind had been wounded too many times to trust too quickly and let her heart always have its way.

"You want anything to eat?"

Harper shook her head, not looking at her. Biting her lip, Beka suddenly turned and ran into the kitchen. Yanking open my fridge, she pulled out a Sparky. Running back to the closet, she held it out to Harper.

Harper didn't make a move towards it, but I saw a flicker of gratitude in those blue eyes. Realizing Harper wouldn't take it, Beka crouched down and put it on the floor and pushed it towards him.

Bobby's impatient voice drifted down the corridor towards her. "Beka! Come on, baby! We ain't got all day, and neither does that insect we have to give that swine's crap to."

Rolling her eyes, Beka gave Harper another apologetic smile as the latter grabbed the Sparky from the floor and carefully placed it down beside him as if the can were made from gold. 

"We'll be back in a couple of hours." Beka promised.

Harper nodded and gave her a tiny smile. "Have fun buying stuff."

Beka grinned. "I will. You have fun drinking and counting cracks, okay?"

When Bobby hollered down the corridor again, Beka quickly shut the closet door and locked it with her secret access code.

Jogging down the corridor and running a hand through her hair, she yelled that she was coming.

Running over to the airlock, she grabbed the last crate of supplies and leapt down onto the station floor.

Grumbling, Bobby spat on the floor. "Finally.Thought I'd wrinkle up and die in the years it took you to get your ass off that wreck." Spitting on the floor again for good measure and earning himself a glare from a passing Than, Bobby scowled at Beka. "Crate ain't too heavy for you?"

Beka grinned at him and shook her head. Making sure her gun was securily shoved in its holster, she tugged a strand of her hair behind her ear and frowned, looking around the station.

"So, where's our Than?"

Bobby shrugged as he looked around. "All of these damn bugs look the same."

Beka rolled her eyes as she glanced around herself. 

Finally, a small Than shuffled over to them, throwing paranoid glances over her shoulder as she tried to appear inconspicuous.

"Are you Keeler's runners?" she whispered, staring around the station with wide eyes, obviously not used to dealing with black market goods or runners.

Beka rolled her eyes again and nodded. "Yeah."

The Than nodded jerkily. "Okay, okay. Follow me then. Right this way. My boss is waiting for you." She stammered, already hastily moving towards the port's entrance.

Grabbing the crates, Bobby and Beka hurried after her, and when they slipped out of the entrance into the bustle of the market surrounding the port, they slipped off my sensors.

I had already lost sight of Vex, who had made himself scarce moments after stepping out of my airlock, mumbling to Bobby that he was heading to some plant reserves or something.

Now the only being in this port which I knew was locked up in my storage closet. I sighed inwardly. I really wanted to let Harper out. I knew he wouldn't start up my engines and fly away, not only because he didn't know how to fly, but because we both knew he had nowhere to fly to.

Harper sat on my floor, leaning against the wall, not touching the Sparky. It was only after staring at him for a few moments that I realized he was pressing his ear against the wall, listening for the sound of my airlock slamming shut. Sure enough, moments after Beka slammed my airlock shut, Harper pushed himself off the wall. 

Glancing at the Sparky, he licked his dry lips and appeared to be debating within himself whether he was thirsty enough to open it or if he should save it for another day. His hoarding instinct won out and he carefully put the Sparky down by the door, setting it down so carefully I checked to make sure that there was only Sparky in it and not hidden jewels or something.

But Harper wasn't the kind of person to take anything for granted. Even when he knew there was plenty more of whatever he had gotten, he still treated everything he got as if it was a rare gift of the universe. 

Whenever he was having a shower or washing his hands, he'd let the water run over his fingers and he'd smile in that small, mysterious way of his, not because he had wanted to clean himself so badly, but simply because the water was there. 

Whenever Beka would give him Vex's clothes back after washing them, he'd run his fingers over the clean fabric and quietly smile as he pulled them on and touched the buttons and the stitchings, simply grateful that they were there. 

It was the same with the Sparky can. He'd never crumble up the cans like Bobby did with his beer cans, but he would drink every last drop from them and then carefully set them down on a counter or on the table, lightly touching the metal and the strange writing on the sides, simply grateful that they were there. Beka had quickly realized that it angered Harper if he saw anybody throwing anything out, even empty Sparky cans, and especially left over food.

He'd never fly off in a rage like Bobby did, but that spark of anger would flare up in his normally blank eyes and he'd clench his jaws and quietly glare at Beka in a way that made her skin crawl. 

Beka had quickly learned never to throw anything out while Harper was around. 

Harper sat up and crouched on his heels, apparently waiting until he was sure Beka and Bobby were really gone. Then, he slowly stood up and stared intently around my closet.

His eyes flickered around, scanning every corner and every shelf, until he froze when he saw the air duct in the top corner of the closet, right above the stack of shelves. A small smile spread across his face. 

I instantly knew what he was thinking of, and only prayed that the shelves wouldn't fall over. I didn't want him to break his neck. Yes, I know my captain locked him up and I shouldn't be encouraging his escape, but hey, I'm only an observer. Besides, you can't shake your head and scowl at me in disapproval. I don't have an AI.

Carefully looking over the shelves, Harper pushed all the stacks of pillow cases, sheets and towels to the side, only stopping once to lightly run his fingers over the white fabric, a small smile on his face. 

When he had moved all the stacks to the side, he grabbed hold of the shelves and pulled himself up. He climbed up the shelves with the agility of a monkey, his bare feet hardly touching a shelf before he pulled himself up to the next one.

I was reminded of the way he and Pez had climbed up my hull with a swiftness and gracefullness which had surpised me. Well, old talents die hard.

Without a sound and in barely a blink of an eye, Harper was crouching on my top shelf. Pulling a kitchen knife out of his pant leg where he had tucked it a few days ago when Bobby had pulled himself into a particularily sour mood, he set to work jimmying the cover off the air duct opening.

Finally, the metal crunched and groaned and he lifted it away and carefully put it down beside him. I was still praying that he didn't lean over too far and fall off the shelf, but Harper looked perfectly at home crouching below the low ceiling, balanced on a thin wooden ledge.

Peering into the long dark duct, Harper grabbed the sides and pulled himself head first into the metal tunnel.

The knife still clutched in his hand—Harper not having stopped to consider the fact that the chances of anything creeping up on him and attacking him in my air duct were very slim—he slithered along the tunnel.

Still hardly making a sound, I could hardly hear him breathe as he pulled himself along, his knife always staying in front of him. His eyes shone in the darkness, and I wondered briefly how he could see where he was going, but then remembered how Harper had probably spent his entire life crawling through dark tunnels like these and his night vision was superb. 

When he reached the end of the air duct, he crouched before the cover and jimmied that one open too with his knife. Pushing it outwards, he carefully dislodged it and quickly caught it before it could fall to the floor of my cock pit—where he had unknowingly ended up.

Putting it down beside him, he crawled to the open edge of the duct and quickly hopped down, landing on the metal floor beneath him without a sound.

Quickly glancing around himself, he checked to make sure there was nothing hidden in any corner and that the only sounds were my leaky coolant pipes and the hum of my AG generator. 

Finally convinced that he was alone, he tugged the knife into his pants again, and then crept around the railing and quietly sat down in my piloting chair.

I would have become alarmed if one of two things would have happened next. 

Either if Harper would have tried to get the safety lock off my controls which strapped them down beside my piloting chair, or if I wouldn't have been so convinced Harper wouldn't try to run off.

Thankfully, my panic stayed at bay when Harper pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned back in the chair.

He just sat there, his hands in his lap. He was staring out of my windsheild, watching Than and human beings, and even a few Perseids walking past me. 

Harper and I sat there, quietly watching and listening to the things outside. Two humans were arguing over the length of time it would take to reach Rogina from here, and a Perseid was clutching his head and whining that his slipstream drive had just blown and where in the name of Sinti would he get it fixed in time to make it to a Council meeting? A Than dock patrol worker was striding around, greeting people, checking their visitor passes, and yelling at the occupants of a small glider which had landed unauthorized. A Than mother strode past us, pulling two of her children behind her and yelling around for her husband, her antennas twitching with impatience.

Neither of us said a word as we watched the bustle and noise outside my window. I didn't talk because I couldn't, and Harper didn't talk because he still thought silence was safer and more comfortable. 

We stayed like that for over an hour. Harper never moved, except to shift around once and sit cross legged on the chair, his bare feet looking out of place on the plastic covering. 

I had started to get worried when the time got closer for my captain and crew to return. I was berating myself for not being capable of telling Harper to get himself back into the storage closet before Beka or—the Divine forbid—Bobby came back.

But, apparently, Harper's instinct told him the same things I was trying to get across to him. As always, my inability to communicate with my crew was made up for by the simple fact that my crew were all beings who possessed emotions and instincts bred into them from the day they were born.

Harper hopped up and quietly leapt over the railing and used a console and the pipes on my walls to climb up to the open air duct. Climbing up the wall with the same ease with which people walked on normal, horizontal floors, Harper pulled himself into the duct. Carefully gripping the metal cover through the slits, he jammed it back into the opening, then twisted himself around in the narrow passage, pulled out his knife and slithered back towards the storage closet.

Half an hour later, Bobby yanked open my airlock, grumbling over needing a drink, Vex hopped in after him and Beka came last, dropping her packages on the floor and running to the closet. Immediately punching in the code, she pulled the door open, her eyes filled with unmasked worry.

Harper sat in the exact same place she had left him. The cover was back on the air duct, the stacks of linen and sheets had been carefully pushed back to their former places, and the Sparky can was lying at his feet where he had put it after Beka had pushed it towards him.

Overwhelmed with guilt at having locked Harper up, she told him he could come and sit beside her when she flew them out.

Staring up at her, he smiled slightly, grabbed the Sparky and pushed himself up. As Beka was about to walk to the cock pit, Harper quietly ran to the kitchen, put the Sparky back into the fridge, and then came back to follow Beka to the cock pit.

Beka raised an eyebrow and shook her head as she laughed at him. Without asking for an explanation,— for she knew she wouldn't get one,— she made her way to the cock pit, Harper quietly walking two paces behind her.

Sitting down in the same chair Harper had sat in less than an hour ago, Beka called over her shoulder that they were leaving and could Vex dump her bags onto her bed?

Reaching up, she turned on her viewscreen and asked me to hail the docking patrol again. As soon as the jade Than appeared on her screen, Beka told her that she was leaving. Cutting the connection and clipping her seatbelt on, she undid the safety locks on my controls and revved up my engines.

Harper crouched down beside her, staring out of the windsheild with wide eyes as Beka turned on my thrusters and we slowly rose out of the berth and smoothly—with a few groans and squeaks—flew through the atmosphere.

Once again, I shared a little secret with Harper which Beka would never know about. I know I should feel guilty about it, but those little secrets built a special bond between Harper and me, one which I nearly treasure as much as my captain's trust. And that's saying something.


	7. Chapter 7

The Diaries 

Chapter 7

Author's Note: As always, thank you, thank you, thank you to those people who reviewed, you're the best and you're the people I write my stories for. Thanks to Jen, for leaving me the best review I've ever gotten, and Lauriena who made me laugh so hard over the water thing. I nearly spat out my coffee and laughed so hard I nearly cried. My family now thinks I'm officially nuts. These next two chapters are for Parisindy who has been nagging me non stop about posting more chapters. Thank you for loving this story as much as I do. I've been worried because I suspect this story will be long and meandering (Look at the year of the archive. I still have five years of time to write out _(evil smile)_—run for your lives!) but now I can breath because I know there's at least one person out there who'll read whatever I put down. I owe you one! 

Before I let you read about the junk I've put down on this page, I have to say something about Bobby. My sister read this chapter and said that it's wrong because Bobby's too nice. Beka would not kick a nice person off her ship. This is very true. I'll say the same thing I said to my sister: Wait and see. I have a plan _(another evil smile)_

Okay, have fun reading and tell me what you think!

Database Records Archive: 14 (10083)

Specific Time: That night

Beka was running a frusterated hand through her hair and was scowling at the walls of her room, as Bobby lay sprawled out on her bed, leaning against the wall, and swirling his whisky around in its bottle.

After Beka swore one more time, Bobby sighed and stopped swirling the amber liquid around. 

"Baby, it's not such a hard decision to make. We either chuck him out, or we don't. That simple. It'll take about five minutes to decide, and then tomorrow, we'll do whatever we decided to do."

Beka scowled at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Bobby, it's not that simple."

He blinked. "Why not?" When Beka didn't answer him, but just scowled again and resumed her pacing, Bobby sighed again. 

"Look, baby. Let's put all this crap on the table where we can see it, okay?"

I winced at the imagery. What a typical Bobby thing to say.

"The only reason we had to go back to that crap of a place—"

"Earth."

"Same thing. The only reason was because that filthy snot—"

"Keeler."

"Again, same thing. Baby, I know what I'm talking about. Anyway, as I was saying—baby, please don't interupt me so many damn times. I'm a wee bit too drunk to properly remember everything I'm going to say— the only reason we have to go back that place was because Keeler—is that the thing's name?—was going to pay us the other half of our money once we got back. Now that the bug gave us that money and Keeler left us a message saying we only have to go back to return his little pet—"

"Employee."

"Same thing. Now, baby, here's where we split hairs. Personally, I think it's crazy to make the whole damn trip, waste a bunch of fuel and time and supplies just to chuck the kid out on the right rock. I say we just stop at the next space port we go by and throw him out."

Seeing Beka's scowl, he leaned forward. "Beka, baby. Just think about it. We'll be saving fuel, money and time, and most of all, whatever rock we chuck the kid out on, it'll be better than where we got him from. Trust me, Beka. Any place is better than there. The kid'll thank us for not bringing him back."

Beka ran another hand through her hair and bit her lip, thought  it over and then scowled again. "Bobby, that's not what I'm arguing about. I know it would make us all happier—including Harper—if we just threw him out along the way somewhere, but it's Keeler I'm worried about."

Bobby frowned, taking a sip of his whisky. "Who?"

Beka sighed. "The filthy snot, Bobby."

"Oh, right. That one. Sorry. Forgot. Wee bit drunk at the moment, baby. You understand. Anyway, continue."

Rolling her eyes, Beka stood in front of him, her arms crossed. "Bobby, we both know that Keeler isn't as dumb as he smells or looks. He knows both of our names, and the name of my ship. If we don't bring Harper back, he'll rat us out to the Dragans and we'll have hell to pay. That isn't worth it. Thanks but I prefer making a little detour."

Bobby frowned, took another sip of the whisky and leaned back against the wall. "Why the hell would the Dragans care if one mudfoot didn't go back to his boss? He ain't theirs."

"Yes, he is. That's the problem."

Bobby's eyebrows nearly flew off his face. "What?"

Beka sighed and briefly closed her eyes. She looked like she didn't want to get into it, but then bit her lip and flopped down on the bed beside him.

Leaning on her side, she fiddled around with the fray edges of her blanket.

"The contract Keeler and I signed had some stuff on it that I didn't tell you about."

I turned up my internal sensors' perception to hear better. Apparently whatever Bobby didn't know must have been in that huge chunk in the contract I skipped over while nosying around about Keeler's business. Did I just say nosying around? I take that back. I was doing security checks. Don't roll your eyes at me. I don't have an AI.

"Even though Harper works for Keeler, he's the property of a Nietzschean."

"The freak's a slave?"

"No. Not technically anyway. I don't really understand how the whole system works, but basically, every Nietzschean on that planet owns a bunch of earthlings. More specifically, the ghetto earthlings."

"Ghetto earthlings? What the hell are those?"

Beka sighed again and waved a dismissive hand at Bobby. He apparently thought that meant she wanted some of the whisky, for he offered the bottle to her. Beka just frowned at him and gave him a weird look, before Bobby shrugged and pulled the bottle away.

"Anyway. Ghetto earthlings are the ones who lived out in the country and decided to claim refugee status and go back to cities. The only way the Nietzscheans let them stay is when they agreed to stay in ghettos set up for them, and that they become Nietzschean property."

"You mean slaves?"

"No, not really. I mean, they don't work for the Dragans or anything. They just belong to them. The Dragans don't feed them, don't make them work, nothing. They're just part of their property. The way Keeler was talking about Harper you'd have thought he was talking about a chair or a patch of dirt, not a human being, but anyway. So, Harper's Nietzschean property, Keeler isn't."

"Why ain't the snot face?"

"He isn't a ghetto earthling."

Bobby snorted. "What a fucked up system."

Beka smiled. "I know. That's what I said to Keeler. Anyway, techically, because these ghetto earthlings belong to the Dragans, you can't just buy them like normal slaves."

"Why not?"

Beka shrugged. "I don't know. I'm guessing just because the Dragans said so. Besides, if anybody was allowed to buy them, do you really think there'd be even a single human being left in that hell? The Dragans aren't dumb. They want to keep their property."

Bobby stared off into space and took a slow slip from the bottle. Slowly, he shook his head.

"Man, what a piece of crap."

"What?"

"This whisky."

"Bobby!" Beka cried, half exasperated and half laughing. 

Bobby chuckled and reached over and lightly ran a finger down her cheek. "Sorry, baby. Couldn't resist. Anyway, I wasn't talking about the whisky. I meant the whole damn system. Nietzscheans ain't got any right to do that."

Beka sighed. "I know."

Taking another sip of his whisky, Bobby sighed too, then shook his head and grinned. "But, long as it ain't me whose someone else's property, I can live with it. So, going back to our original dilemna, I say we take the time to drag our asses back to earth to dump the kid. I ain't itching to be the next person on a Nietzschean's hit list for stealing his property." He chuckled.

Beka was staring at her blanket, lost in thought. Suddenly, she glanced up at Bobby, chewing on her lower lip. 

"Bobby?"

"Hmm?"

"What if we—" Beka abruptly broke off her sentence and looked down at the blanket again.

"What, baby?"

Beka shook her head. "No, nothing. Never mind."

"What is it?"

"Just a random thought. Forget about it."

"Okay." Bobby shrugged, pushed himself off the bed and walked to the door, yelling to Vex to slipstream already or did he want them to rot in this system?

Beka hadn't heard him. She was again lost in thought, staring at her blanket. Her face hid any hints as to what she was thinking of. But whatever it was, it kept her so preoccupied, that ten minutes later when Vex yelled to say that dinner was ready, he had to send Harper to go and get her since she hadn't heard him.

Database Records Archive: 15 (10083)

Specific Time: Next morning

Something was eating away at my captain's thoughts, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Ever since her conversation with Bobby, she has been lost in thought.

She nearly walked straight into a wall, almost burned her hand off when she turned on the hot tap instead of the cold in the bathroom, and had to be reminded twice to eat her breakfast since she had paused before each bite, her thoughts miles away, her fork suspended in mid air before her mouth.

The weirdest part of it was the way she stared at Harper. 

Whenever he walked past her, or when he was sitting beside her at breakfast, or when he was helping Vex fix my oxygen tank and Beka happened to walk by, she'd stare at him as if wanting to ask him something, but not being able to.

At breakfast, this constant staring had grated on Harper's paranoid and fragile nerves, until he had nearly crawled under the table, taking his plate with him, and Vex had asked Beka as nicely as possible not to stare at him. 

She hardly slept during the night. Bobby came to her after she had changed, startling her out of her thoughts when he put his arms around her while she stood in the middle of her room, her brush having frozen mid air, her eyes staring at my wall without seeing it.

An hour later, Bobby was fast asleep, and Beka lay beside him, her eyes still staring off, her mind light years away. Not even Bobby's snoring tore her out of her thoughts as she quietly lay there, the blanket wrapped around her.

All morning she was distant and forgetful. Occasionally staring at Harper but mostly just looking at one of my walls, she acted like she had gone deaf, blind and mute all over night.

I had already run through a million different possiblities over what could possible be on my captain's mind. She was worried over our next run. She was pregnant—but after running an analysis I ruled that one out. I was slightly relieved. Just picturing Bobby Jensen junior makes my environmental controls jump all over the place.— Or she was worried about the crew. I ruled that one out too after scanning all of them and determining that they were all healthy. Well, Harper was about as healthy as he could get, considering he never had an immune system to begin with.

In short, I had no idea what was bothering my captain. I won't pretend it didn't worry me. Normally my captain confided in me with everything. 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

Finally I got my answer. Beka had been piloting, but with her mind anywhere but the course she was flying, she had missed two slipstream portals and narrowly missed an asteriod, and Vex finally came and told her to go and take a break before she flew me into a blackhole. I shuddered at the thought. 

At the time I didn't know how ironic Vex's statement was, but as Andromeda tells me everytime I laugh about it: "Don't joke about blackholes until you've spent 303 years in one." That one always cracks me up too. Don't tell her.

Beka apologized, rolled her eyes at herself and pushed herself out of the chair. As she walked down my corridors, she bit her lip and stared at my walls.

Finally, she threw up her hands, scowled and ran a hand through her hair.

"You know what? I'll just ask him. I mean, I won't get an answer just moping around here, and besides, technically it's my choice, not his. Right?"

I pretended to have a clue what she was talking about.

Beka sighed. "Okay, I'll ask him. But you better stay with me." She said, pretending to look around herself sternly. "I'm not doing this by myself."

Right away, I didn't care anymore what she was talking about, but made sure all my systems were fine so that I wouldn't have to leave Beka to look over something else while she was talking. I didn't have a clue what my captain was talking about, but she needed me, so there I was.

Beka walked into the kitchen, where Bobby was slouching in chair, and Harper was sitting on the floor, leaning against the fridge. Neither of them were talking to each other. Big surprise.

Bobby glanced up. "Hey, baby. What's up?"

Beka gave him a thin smile, and then glanced down at Harper. Clearing her throat, she continued staring at him, while he just sat there, staring back at her.

"Give us a minute, Harper."

He blinked. "Huh?"

Bobby scowled at him. "She wants you to drag your filthy freak self out of this kitchen. Now."

Not needing to be told twice, Harper pushed himself up and quietly scampered out of the kitchen, his eyes never leaving Bobby until he was out of the room.

Staring after him, Beka slightly shook her head and then turned back to Bobby.

He cocked his head as he looked at her. "What's the matter, baby? You've been awfully quiet these last few days. It ain't right. What's bothering you?"

Beka bit her lip, crossed her arms and looked at Bobby for a long time before answering. Right before she answered, she quickly glanced up at the ceiling. 

I knew what she was doing. She was making sure I was still there, supporting her and giving her strength like I always have. I so badly wanted to tell her I was there for her. So badly. 

But I guess she knew that. She always did. 

Taking a deep breath, she looked back down at Bobby.

"I want Harper to stay."

Bobby and my reactions were nearly identical. He nearly spat a moutful of whisky across the table and I nearly shorted out my life support systems. Thankfully, both of us controlled ourselves, before asking the inevitable:

"_What?_"

For once Bobby spoke the words I couldn't.

Beka took another deep breath. "You heard me. I want Harper to stay."

Bobby stared at her as if she had gone insane before slowly shaking his head. 

"No way." He said quietly, shaking his head, a tiny smile on his face which seemed to indicate he thought Beka had completely lost it. "No way. No fucking way."

Beka sighed. "Look, Bobby. Just hear me out—"

Bobby raised an eyebrow and held up a hand to cut her off. "No way. I don't want to hear any barrel of sentimental crap you've thought of, or how the little piece of crap twisted your arm to convince him to let him stay, but it isn't going to happen. He's not staying. There's no point in even continuing this discussion." Laughing quietly, Bobby shook his head again, muttering 'crazy girl' under his breath.

That enraged both my captain and me. Obviously Beka had thought long and hard over this and she wasn't in the mood to be put down by Bobby's attitude. 

She straightened up, held her chin up and glared down at him.

"Bobby, may I remind you who's captain here and who's crew?"

Bobby stopped laughing and stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me. I'm the captain here, not you. And if I want you to listen to me, then you're going to listen to me." She said, her tone ice cold.

I silently cheered for her. Take that, Bobby Jensen. 

Bobby seemed to get the feeling that Beka really was serious about this and wasn't in the mood to joke around, so he leaned back in his chair and looked up at her.

Satisfied that she had gotten his full attention, Beka pulled out a chair and sat down across from Bobby.

"Bobby, I don't want you to think this is just a spur of the moment stupid airhead idea. I've thought this over for hours now, and it's what I want to do."

"And what's that, Beka?"

She frowned. "I told you. I want Harper to stay."

"That's not what I meant. Do you want to do this because you really want him to stay, or because you don't want to bring him back?"

Beka pressed her lips together and let her gaze fall to the table. 

Bobby sighed and leaned forward. Lightly resting his elbows on the table, he looked at her.

"Look, baby. I know what you're thinking. You know that if you bring him back, that that heart of yours is gonna break from the guilt. I mean, who the hell wouldn't feel bad about bringing someone back to a place like that? You feel sorry for him, Beka. Hell, anybody would. But that isn't a reason to let him stay here."

"Why isn't it? Why can't I let him stay because my heart wants me to? What's wrong with that?"

Bobby sighed. "Beka, don't listen to your heart, listen to your head for a minute. Think of who you're dealing with. You aren't dealing with a normal person here. You're dealing with someone who's grown up in the gutters, spent their entire lives on a slave planet and who's spent everyday fighting for life and killing anything in his path in the process. They're all cut throats, Beka. There aren't any rules where he comes from. There aren't any manners, laws, right or wrong. Nothing. You kill someone, big deal, at least you get to rob their corpse after. You steal something, big deal, now you have whatever you stole and who the hell cares about the other person?" Bobby reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "Beka, I'm not going to yell and scream until you see my point, but use your head. Just because you pulled him out of the place he grew up in doesn't mean you pulled him out of himself. He still doesn't know right from wrong and won't hesitate to slit any of our throats if he feels threatened or we stop feeding him. You can't just erase his past by giving him a new life, Beka. It doesn't work that way. Those poor pieces of crap grow up biting the hands that feed them, because chances are, if they don't, that hand is going to reach back moments later to take back whatever it gave them. No matter how many times you reach out to help him, he'll still bite your hand." He said softly, gently rubbing her hand. "It's what people like him do. They're wounded people."

With that, he got up and grabbed himself another whisky bottle—having drained his previous one—and then sat back down and looked at Beka.

My captain was sitting motionless on her chair, staring at the table, her hand lying limply where Bobby had lain it before he'd grabbed his bottle.

In the silence which engulfed them, Bobby slowly unscrewed the lid of the bottle, threw it into my sink—why, oh why can't that man ever use a garbage can?—and took a slow sip of the whisky.

Finally, Beka bit her lip and looked up at him. Clasping her hands together, she held her chin up.

"Well, that's a risk I'm willing to take."

Bobby rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated groan. "Beka."

"No, Bobby. I'm serious. Look, I know the risks. I know there's a good chance I might go to sleep one night and he'll slit my throat, or he'll steal everything in sight and sell it on some black market somewhere. But on the other hand, I could give him a new life, Bobby. I could give him a decent life. And if I have to take a few gambles along the way for that price, I'll take that risk."

"Beka, look. I want you to think about this—"

"My mind's made up." She sighed when she saw him scowl at that. "Look, I know you hate this idea and you can't stand Harper, but—"

"You're right on both counts baby, but there's one thing you missed. I don't trust him. And that's why I hate this idea and I can't stand the freak. Because I don't trust him when he's around you. And while you might be willing to take a chance with him, I'm not. I won't risk your safety to give one mudfoot a decent chance at life."

Beka gave him a gentle smile. "Bobby, just give me a chance to try, okay? I'll be careful, you know that, and he'll be my responsibility. You won't have to lift a finger to help. I'll do it by myself. And I promise, the minute I think he looks like he'll bite, I'll throw him out. You have my word on that."

Bobby scowled again and stared at my fridge, thinking. 

Finally he swore, spat on my floor—he _spat_ on my floor!—and looked at Beka.

"Fine. I'm still against it. I don't like or trust the piece of crap. But as long as you're careful and he stays out of my way and keeps his frigging fleas to himself, I'll put up with breathing the same air as him." He grumbled.

Beka laughed, the relief evident in her voice.

"Number one, he doesn't have fleas—"

"You never know." Bobby mumbled.

"—and number two, you know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Beka laughed again and leaned across the table to give him a quick kiss. Then she got up and ran to tell Vex about our newest crewmember.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          

Vex's only reaction to Beka's news was a gentle smile. He didn't seem a bit surprised. But, deep down, neither was I. Knowing my captain and the way her mind and heart work, I knew this was coming. I was just glad Bobby was okay with it. Well, _okay_ might be too strong of a word to use, but I was glad to see Bobby give in to Beka for once, instead of having it the other way around like it mostly was.

The reason I was happy wasn't as much for my captain and myself as for Harper. My blond haired night time thief who never drank water and hardly ever smiled would finally have a home. A decent one. 

The only thing Vex said to Beka was nothing about risks and trust, or the other stuff Bobby had been harping about.

He quietly looked at Beka and then asked her: "This is a huge responsibility, Rebecca. He'll be on your hands from now until you decide to throw him out, and if you decide to let him stay, he could be on your hands for years. Are you sure you want this?"

Beka gave him a gentle smile. "Vex, I've been watching you do it all my life. I've learned from the best, so I should be okay. Besides, Harper and I will tough it out together."

Vex nodded, smiling at her.

As Beka spun around, hurrying down the corridor towards the crew quarters and calling Harper's name, Vex sighed and glanced down at the scanner in his hands.

"Oh, Ignatius. If you could only see your little girl now."

I was the only one who had heard him.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

Harper was sitting in his usual corner beside the mattress, his knees drawn up to his chest. I was surprised to see him lightly running a finger along the stitches in the mattress. Up until this point, he had never even touched it, never mind slept on it.

Beka didn't see this. Harper's sixth sense warned him that she was coming before she even reached the crew quarters. Yanking his hand away from the mattress, he stared at the door, waiting for her to appear.

Beka rounded the corner and stopped before the door, leaning against the doorframe.

She smiled across the floor at him. "Hey."

Harper didn't answer her, just stared at her. 

Beka crossed her arms. "So, I heard you and Vex fixed the oxygen regulators. He says you did it all by yourself."

Harper shrugged, still staring at her. Beka hadn't asked him any questions, and he wasn't at the point yet where he could engage in light conversations with people.

Sighing, Beka slowly walked across the floor towards him and sat down on the mattress. Harper's wary blue eyes followed her as she walked, but then looked down at the floor when she had sat down.

Beka leaned against the wall and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. I wanted to scream at her to tell Harper the news already, but my captain didn't seem to know how to approach it.

Glancing up at the ceiling, she reassured herself of my presence like she had done less than an hour ago, and then sighed.

I'm with you, Beka, I mentally told her. Had I any hands, I would have given her a thumbs up to give her courage. I really didn't understand why this was so hard for her. After all, what was she afraid of? Harper saying no? That would be absurd. But, I guess this is part of the complexities of human emotion I have never understood.

Sighing, Beka finally turned to Harper.

"Harper, do you want to stay here?"

Well, my captain certainly was never one to beat around the bush.

Harper immediately nodded in agreement, still looking at the floor. "Yes, m'm." he mumbled, obviously not having heard her but the instinct to always answer a question immediately was so engrained within him that he couldn't help it.

Beka sighed again. "Harper, I don't think you're understanding me here. I didn't ask if you were hungry or if you breathe air. I asked if you wanted to stay here."

Harper blinked and glanced at her, his expression confused. "It's mighty comfortable 'ere. I ain't like sittin' in the kitchen. Chair's ain't comfortable. I like the floor."  He said quietly. Then, as if he was afraid he'd said the wrong thing and made her angry, he quickly stammered: "But if you's ain't liking me sittin' here, I can move."

Beka smiled and rolled her eyes. "Oh, god, Harper. You're really not understanding me here."

He was starting to fidget, torn between staying quiet and risking her anger at his stupidity, or asking her what in the world she was talking about. Obviously Keeler had also engrained it in him never to ask any questions.

Beka frowned when she saw the agitated frown on his face and the fidgeting, and suddenly understood what the problem was.

"Harper, I'm not mad. You just don't understand what I'm talking about. That's okay. Not everyone can get everything right away."

He shot her a quick glance and then stared back down at the floor, but he calmed down slightly and his eyes weren't panicked, but were still apprehensive.

"Okay, let me try this again." Pulling her knees up her chest like Harper, she stared across the floor at the door. "You obviously know that the Than who we were delivering Keeler's junk to paid us the money Keeler still owed us. Technically, we now don't have any other reason to go back to earth than to return Keeler's employee, namely, you."

Harper didn't move and the blank expression on his face hid any thoughts he might be having.

"Bobby and I were talking just a few hours ago, and we decided that we didn't feel like making the trip back to earth. It's a long way to go and it would be one hell of a waste of fuel, time and supplies. But, then there's was obviously the problem of what to do with you. After arguing with Bobby for what seemed like freaking hours, we both decided to let you stay here, if you want to."

Beka stopped talking and tore her eyes off the door and glanced at Harper. He hadn't moved a muscle and hadn't even shown any indication that he had even heard Beka.

"So? What you do you say?" Beka asked, trying to coax an answer out of him. When all she got as a small shrug, she sighed in exasperation.

"Harper, come on. You have to give me something to work with here. If you're going to hide behind a wall for the next few hours then I'll change my mind and throw you out like the original plan was."

 When that didn't even get him to blink, Beka realized she'd gone about it the wrong way. 

Running a frusterated hand through her hair, she sighed. "Harper, look. I'm not too good at this talking stuff either, but I really suck at it when the person I'm talking to hides in a shell that he won't come out of. You've got to help me here a little. All I need is a yes or a no answer. That's all. I know you're not used to making these decisions by yourself—hell, Keeler probably told you how many times you're allowed to blink per day—but just give me a little one word answer. That's all I want."

The silence which engulfed them both seemed so imprenetrable that I didn't think Harper would ever answer. When he did, it wasn't the answer either of us were looking for.

"Why?"

Beka glanced at him and frowned. "Why what?" Obviously, she hadn't expected this either.

"Why you's wantin' me to stay?"

Beka bit her lip and looked like she was going to make up a whole barrage of excuses and lies, but then decided against it.

"Honestly? Because I know I'll never forgive myself if I bring you back to that—that place. In truth, the only reason is because I feel sorry for you. There. I said it. I feel sorry for you, Harper."

A tiny spark of anger lit up in Harper's eyes. "I ain't need your pity." He said quietly.

Beka rolled her eyes. "Harper, you aren't in any position to shove away helping hands. Even if those are hands are hands of pity. Harper, you have to realize that everywhere you go—providing it's not earth—people are going to feel sorry for you. Maybe after awhile you won't look like the wreck you do now, but when people hear of where you're from, they're going to feel sorry for you." She held up a hand. "And I'm sorry, but that's the way life goes. People who have hearts can have them easily broken by either pain or pity. It's what hearts do. There's nothing you can do about it. You an either accept people's pity and use it to climb out of the hole you're supposed to die in, or you can turn your nose up at them and go back to bumming around in the gutters."

"Sewers."

"What?"

"I ain't ever lived in no gutters. I lived in the sewers. Safer an' cleaner."

Beka laughed dryly. "Well, I'd have to argue with you about both those points, but you're changing the subject. Do you want to stay or don't you?"

Harper stared at the floor, his eyes blank. He glanced up at Beka. 

"It ain't that easy."

Beka frowned, but then remembered the lease. "Oh, that. Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it. Trust me. All you have to do is tell me yes or no, and I'll go do it."

Harper bit his lip and seemed to be wavering between those two tiny words. If he said yes, he'd be thrown into a new life, where he felt like an outcast and floundered around like a ship in slipstream without a pilot. If he said no, he'd be going back to the life he knew, but would probably be dead in a few years, and if not, he'd have to spend the rest of his days living in filth and misery. 

Beka quietly watched him decide, his mind going back and forth between safe misery or strange comfort. 

Feeling her eyes on him, Harper turned and scowled slightly at Beka, who immediately turned her head and stared at the door. Obviously making a decision like this was hard enough without having someone staring at you like when you didn't know what they were staring for. Harper's paranoia was sometimes a handful, but it was never unjustified.

Finally, he licked his lips and nervously glanced at Beka.

"So, is the mister okay with this?"

"He's Bobby, not the mister, and yeah, he's okay with it. The rules will be the same as they have always been. You stay out of his hair, and he'll leave you alone."

"And Vex?"

Beka nodded. "And before you ask, I'm okay with it too. Hell, I'm the one who brought up this insane idea in the first place." She gave him an encouraging smile. "So, what's the answer?"

Harper shrugged slightly and stared at the floor. "I'll stay, I guess. If you're sure."

The smile on Beka's face grew wider and she reached out as if to touch his arm, but he saw it coming and pulled himself out of the way. Immediately pulling her hand back, Beka stood up and slowly walked across the room to the door.

"I'll start fishing around and trying to get in contact with the Nietzscheans on earth. I'll call you when I have something, okay?"

"Okay." Came the quiet response from behind her. Beka could feel his eyes digging into her back, watching her every move, but the uneasiness in those eyes wasn't as strong as it had once been.

Just before Beka left the room, she heard Harper calling her. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at the figure sitting on the floor.

Although his face remained blank, the mistrust had faded from his eyes and a slight twinkle shone within them.  

He stared at her, disbelief and gratefullness in his eyes. 

Beka smiled at him. His inability to say thank you couldn't have been made up for in a better way. That haunted look was gone from his eyes, and instead, there was a twinkle within them that spoke louder than any words which he could have spoken.

My captain had just gotten a new responsibility, one which she would hold onto with her own life, even in the darkest moments, and Harper had just gotten a new life and he would follow the person he could thank for that to the ends of the universe and back again.


	8. Chapter 8

The Diaries

Chapter 8 

Database Records Archive: 16 (10083)

Specific Time: Three days later

Although technically Harper was already part of my crew and an accepted part of my captain's life, legally, he wasn't ours yet. 

It took Beka three days until she finally found who she was looking for. She had contacted earth five times, each time either being cut off, or being told by a glaring Nietzschean that if she wasn't there for business, she should make herself scarce before they sent their drones after her and turned me into a fireworks display.

Needless to say, Nietzscheans terrify me. 

Finally, Beka got hold of a reasonable Nietzschean, who didn't have a better attitude than the rest, but at least let her finish her sentence before cutting her off.

"What do I look like? A secretary?" he growled, glaring at her. 

Beka raised her chin and set her jaw, refusing to show him how much he intimidated her.

"Certainly not, sir. But all I want to know is who I have to talk to about getting a lease on someone."

The Nietzschean glared. "Is it one of mine?"

"I beg your pardon?"

He swore and spat on the floor. Then he looked at her as if she was the dumbest being alive.

"Does the piece of crap belong to me?"

Beka frowned, obviously bewildered. "Uhm, I don't think so. I really don't know. I—"

The Nietzschean swore again. "Well, then ask it. And quickly too. I don't have all day to waste talking to ignorant spacers."

That last comment really grated on Beka's nerves and she stiffened and looked like she was going to mouth off to him, when she caught sight of a small figure crouching behind the railing.

It was Harper.

He crouched on the floor, his hands tightly clutching the railing, his face pale. He was staring at the screen, his lower lip quivering. That sparkle was gone from his eyes, and an unmasked fear had replaced it. 

Beka shifted in her chair, and gave him a smile, trying to divert his attention from the glowering Nietzschean on her viewscreen.

"Harper, what's the name of your—" she caught herself before she said 'owner'. My captain had always hated slave owners and always would and loathed even mentioning the fact that some people belonged to others.

Harper swallowed, his uneasiness obvious. Not looking at Beka, he weakly whispered a reply. It was so quiet that Beka nearly missed it and had to lean forward to hear.

"Theseus."

Nodding, Beka turned back to the screen. While he was waiting, the Nietzschean had yelled at someone by his feet to get him a drink, and moments later, he reached down and was handed a bottle of something. Taking an impatient sip, he glared at Beka.

"He belongs to Theseus."

"Finally." He muttered, turning around and yelling at that same someone by his feet to fetch Theseus. Not turning to Beka, he rolled his eyes, muttering something about 'ignorant dumb bitch' under his breath.

Beka's eyes sparked with hot anger and she opened her mouth to let him have it, when one whispered word from Harper stopped her.

"Don't."

He wasn't looking at her and hadn't taken his terrified eyes off the screen. He was clutching the railing so hard that his knuckles were white.

"Harper he just—"

"Don't." 

The word was whispered with such fear and pleading that Beka shuddered but abruptly shut her mouth.

A tall figure suddenly appeared on my viewscreen. At a first glance, he didn't look any different than the other Nietzscheans Beka had talked to. Dressed in black from head to toe, he was even wearing black leather gloves. Around his waist hung a weapons belt filled with two guns, a communicator, a long knife and something that was hanging loosely by his hip, coiled together and hanging by a small clip. It wasn't until I looked closer that I saw it was a long, black whip.

My memory bank immediately sped backwards until the image of the scars on Harper's back came back to me. 

My environmental controls dipped dangerously low as I put two and two together. Not for the first time in my existence did I thank my stars that I wasn't a living being. 

The one thing that struck me by the two Nietzscheans standing on the screen, talking in low, casual voices, one being the man who had answered our hail and the other being Harper's legal owner, was how casual they acted. 

Theseus yawned in the middle of a sentence, and the other one took another swig from his bottle and turned and spat it on the floor. All the while, they talked in low voices, chuckling from time to time.

All the while, their eyes glimmered with cruelty and such an air of superiority that it nearly made my life support system shut down. Their physical strength was obvious and radiated from them, as did an air of having complete control of any situation they were faced with.

Putting that together with those cruel eyes and the casual, indifferent way they stood there, they terrified me. Completely and utterly terrified me. 

Now I understood why Harper crouched behind the railing, his face pale and his eyes filled with dread. Now I understood why Harper couldn't handle anybody touching him. 

Later on, I also understood that these men were the reason why nobody else could easily intimidate Harper, why his tolerance for pain was a lot higher than could be expected, and also why he could be cruel and heartless at times and not give a damn. 

I couldn't imagine being in the same room as one of these—well, demons really—never mind being owned by one and growing up amongst them. 

If there is anybody in the universe who doesn't understand Harper and why he does the things he does, taking one look at these Nietzscheans should easily answer any of their questions.

The only one the entire cockpit who wasn't completely terrified and feeling as small as a drop of anti-matter, was my captain. Not knowing the things I did, and not looking at Harper, she didn't feel the same fear as Harper did, but she was still intimidated. 

I could see it from the way the color drained from her face and the way her eyes widened slightly. I also didn't miss the way she slightly shrank back in her chair.

But she quickly drew courage from the fact that quite a lot of space and many systems separated her from them, and leaned forward.

Clearing her throat, she looked at the screen. "Uhm, excuse me?" she said, trying to seem polite.

Abruptly, the conversation on the screen stopped. Both Niezscheans turned and stared at her, their eyes cold and cruel, not containing even a drop of any other emotion.

"Did you say something?" Theseus asked, his voice cold and quiet.

"Yes I did, sir. You see—"

"You will only speak when spoken to." He said quietly, interupting her words. Without a blink of an eye, he turned back to the other Nietzschean and continued his conversation, completely dimissing the fact that Beka was there. 

In any other situation, my captain would have let her short temper snap and let them have it, but she just paled slightly and remained silent. 

Theseus' message was as clear as my water. He was always obeyed, by anybody, no matter who they might be. Always. 

Finally, Theseus turned to Beka and stepped closer to the viewscreen. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared at her.

"You wanted to lease something of mine."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. I guessed that asking questions must be some indication of uncertainty, and it occurred to me that a man like Theseus very rarely was uncertain about anything.

Beka nodded. She looked like she was about to speak, but she thought better of it. It must have suddenly become very obvious to her why it terrified Harper to answer any questions she might ask of him and why he preferred to shrug than to launch into long explanations about anything. Yes and no answers were safe. Longer answers weren't safe. Especially when talking to a person like Theseus.

Momentarily taking his eyes off of her, he gave a brief, quiet order to something—or rather, someone—at his feet. I heard the faint scurrying of feet, and moments later, a flexi was handed to him. 

Pressing a few buttons on the flexi, he finally looked back up at Beka.

"You will tell me it's full name."

Again, it wasn't a question. 

Beka opened her mouth and momentarily couldn't find her voice. Then she summoned up her courage and said: "Harper."

Theseus blinked slowly. "I wanted it's full name, not it's last name. It would be in your best interest to give me the exact answers I want. I never ask anything twice."

Somehow he really didn't strike me as the kind of person to ask something twice. Or accept wrong answers.

Beka frantically to Harper, but he was already one step ahead of her.

"Seamus Zelazny Harper, my lord." He whispered, his voice quivering. I worried that Theseus hadn't heard him, but apparently he was used to people whispering their answers to him. Writing something down, he ignored them again as he typed.

Suddenly, something started nagging me in the back of my database. What had Harper said his first name was? Seamus? Seamus. Seamus. Why did that bother me so—Shay! Pez had called him Shay! 

Moments after I made this discovery, I pushed that out of my thoughts. We were in the middle of negotiating with a terrifying Nietzschean and I was marvelling over the fact that I had known Harper's first name for weeks already without ever having been aware of it.

Theseus glanced back up at Beka. "You have a choice of taking out a 2.5 or a 5 year lease on it."

Even when expressing choices about something he didn't phrase it as a question.

Beka frowned for a  moment and looked like she was going to ask something, but then felt those cold eyes on her and quickly stammered out the first word she could think of.

"Five. Please."

"You will have to pay a deposit."

Beka raised her eyebrows. "Deposit?" When all she got was that terrifying stare, she quickly changed her question. "How much?"

"Three thrones."

My captain nearly fell out of her chair and her eyebrows nearly flew off her forehead.

"Three—three thrones?"

Thesius blinked at her. 

Beka gaped at him. "You mean I can buy a human being for an amount of money I can't even buy a beer in some places?'

No emotion flickered across his face as he stared at her. "You are not buying anything, you are leasing it. It belongs to me and always will. You will remember that. And furthermore, you aren't leasing a human being. You are leasing a piece of my property. There is a distinct difference."

Apparently Beka didn't understand where the difference lay exactly, but she wasn't going to admit that to Theseus. 

With a shaking hand, she reached over and sent over the money. Moments later, a contract appeared on the screen beside the one from which Thesius was looking at Beka. 

"That is the leasing contract. You will sign it immediately."

Not needing to be told twice, Beka leaned over and quickly typed her signature in and transmitted it back to Theseus.

The latter didn't even glance at it. 

"You have a free hand with it and can use it for whatever purpose you have in mind. It is your choice whether you decide to feed it, dress it or kill it. The deposit is non-refundable and if you kill it or if if dies you have to pay another deposit to get a replacement. In five years time you have the choice to return it or pay another deposit and lease it for another term. If you are unsatisfied with it you can bring it back anytime, but if you bring it back before your leasing term is up, you will pay five more thrones. Also, I strongly advice against letting it roam freely around the universe. If it causes any trouble, and I am put into a difficult position, I will lay the blame on you. That's not a position you want to find yourself in, if you understand me."

With that, he glanced down and told that someone by his feet to cut the connection. Just before my screen went blank, I saw him already striding towards the door, a small figure scampering along on the floor by his feet.

I could see the fear and tension drain out of Harper as soon as the screen went blank and his death grip on my railing relaxed slightly. For the first time since he had snuck into the room, he stole a glance at Beka.

He didn't say anything to her, just crouched there, waiting for her to do something.

But Beka sat in her chair, completely motionless, staring at the blank screen, beside which a copy of the leasing contract blinked.

I knew what she was thinking.

She was now the legal leaser of another human being for a price that was less than a decent beer.


	9. Chapter 9

The Diaries 

Chapter 9

Author's Note: As always, I send a huge thank you to those people who wrote me reviews, you're the best. They're greatly appreciated and make write faster. They're great motivators. Anyway, just wanted to say I'm glad to see fanficaddict back. I was wondering where you'd gotten yourself to. Thanks for noticing the familiar faces. 

Concerning this next bit, I just wanted to say I know next to nothing about Quantum or about it's operations, and the garbled mess I wrote about it came out of my own warped mind and I claim all responsibilities for any major blunders I put in. Sorry. 

Have fun reading and tell me what you think. J 

Database Records Archive: 17 (10083)

Specific Time: Two days later

Beka strode down my corridor, Bobby at her heels.

"I don't give a damn who the hell he belongs to, we still ain't wasting money on him." Bobby growled.

Beka clenched her jaw. "Bobby, we've been at this for half an hour. He's legally mine and every throne on this ship is also mine, therefore, I have every legal right in the universe to buy him decent clothes and shoes."

Bobby scowled and threw up his hands. "He doesn't even want any shoes!"

"Yes, but then again, he didn't want to have a shower either and aren't you glad I made him take one?"

He muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, which neither Beka nor I heard—or wanted to hear. 

I knew the discussion wasn't over yet. Bobby Jensen never lets anybody else have the last word of any conversation. Never.

Sure enough, he reached forward and lightly grabbed Beka's arm and spun her around.

Beka looked exasperated. "Bobby—"

"Just listen to me for a second, okay?"

"Bobby we've been through this—"

"You're being foolish." 

Beka abruptly yanked her arm out of his grasp. Her jaw clenched and her eyes simmered. I knew my captain's temper was nearly at an end.

"Bobby, if you don't drop—"

"Rebecca, I won't drop this until you get your damn head out of the clouds."

Beka frowned, her anger momentarily stalled. "Clouds? What the hell—"

"Yeah, clouds, Beka. You're running around here thinking that just because you bought him—"

"I didn't buy him, I leased him."

"Whatever. Same thing in my books. As I was saying, just because you own—sorry, _lease_—the freak doesn't mean you have to civilize him and clean him up. He doesn't want shoes, and it's not your responsibility to get him any—"

Beka laughed quietly and lightly shook her head as if she was marvelling over the fact that Bobby didn't answer something simple. "Bobby, that's just it." She said, looking up at him with that small smile on her face. "He is my responsibility. Bobby, although in anybody else's books, a leaser might be the same thing as a slave owner, to me, it's a legal guardian."

"Beka, nobody ever said—"

"First of all, don't 'Beka' me. Second of all, that's the difference between you and me, Bobby."

Bobby frowned down at her. "What the hell are you—"

"I treat people decently not out of selfish reasons or love. I treat people decently because that's what my damn heart always tells me to do. Normally, I ignore what it says, but where my responsibilities are concerned, I'm willing to put my heart on the line, even if I won't get a thank you in return."

Bobby stared at her for a moment, before swearing softly and looking down at the floor.

"You out of all people have a right to treat anyone you run into like crap. But yet you out of all people give them things they'll just grab and never thank you for." He slowly shook his head and at her. "Damn it, woman. It'll get you killed one day, you know."

Beka smiled. "I know."

Bobby swore again. He looked like he was going to say something else, but then he spat on my floor—he _spat_ on my floor! Again. For the millionth time! Oh, does that man not know saliva is bad for my floor?—and waved two dismissive hands at Beka. Shaking his head, he turned around and went to the kitchen, muttering that he needed a drink.

Before he disappeared, he yelled back over his shoulder: "Fine, get the freak shoes, but they better not be expensive and if he grows out of them in the next two days, he'll have to cut he fronts off and live with it. He ain't getting another pair for at least two years."

"Yeah, yeah." Beka grumbled good naturedly, making her way over to the engine room.

"I don't think you're getting me here, Beka. He ain't getting another pair for at least two years! Two years! Got it? Hell, make it a decade. The freak isn't going to grow anytime soon anyway."

Laughing, Beka pushed open the door of the engine room.

Vex was sitting on the floor, leaning against my wall, and quietly reading something on a flexi. I tried seeing what it was, but my internal sensors perception isn't too great. What? I'm not nosy. Just monitoring for security purposes. I love that excuse. Andromeda told me to use that one. She says it's always worked like a charm when Dylan reprimands her for eavesdropping and spying.

Harper was lost in a maze of cables, pipes and wires. My external sensors had broken down the other day and Vex and Harper had spent nearly the entire day fixing it. I know what you're thinking, but no, it wasn't me. I might occasionally play around with my auto-pilot so a certain Mr.Jensen has to spend his time flying me around everywhere, but where the safety of my crew and my captain are concerned, I don't play around. Busted external sensors are no joke. Just ask Andromeda. 

Beka leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms. 

"So, hard at work here, aren't we?" she smiled down at Vex.

Vex grinned at her. He nodded at Harper. "These old bones of mine needed a break anyway, and Harper is more than capable of finishing them anyway. Besides, I hate fixing sensors, and he seems to get a real kick out of it, so I left it up to him." Vex shrugged and glanced up at Harper to make sure he was still okay, and then went back to his flexi.

Beka nodded down at the flexi. "What's that?"

"Oh, stocks in Quantum."

My captain frowned. "Vex, you don't own any stocks."

A laugh. "'Course I don't. I just like seeing whether our friendly neighborhood big shots are having problems in money land."

"And are they?"

Vex handed her the flexi. "See for yourself."

Beka quickly skimmed over it and let out a low whistle. If she would just turn it about twenty-three degrees I could see it too. But, no such luck. Darn. Once again, let me emphasize that I'm not nosy. I'm—that's right—monitoring for security purposes.

Beka gave Vex a smile and raised her eyebrows as she dropped the flexi back onto his lap.

"And I thought customer service was one of their bigger bragging points." Beka laughed.

Vex chuckled.

I quickly ran through my systems until I reached that morning's mail delivery. Skimming past the junk mail and weather reports, I finally found the file about Quantum which Vex was looking at. I skimmed it over. For security purposes.

Apparently, some rich customer somewhere had ordered a huge shipment of something and had contacted Quantum about bringing it to him. Whatever this shipment was, it must have been pretty damn important. The customer ordered it as a rush delivery and had been promised that he would receive in two days. A week later, his shipment hadn't arrived yet. Contacting Quantum, he had discovered that some screw-up in the delivery department had sent his entire shipment to the wrong system, where the delivery guy had gotten so confused over the apparent non-existence of their customer, that he'd simply sold the shipment to somebody who was close by. Let's just say that none of Quantum's customers—or investors—were too happy. Stocks and deliveries both plunged.

I was thrilled when I processed this.

It was at these times that small business operators—such as my captain and company—could move into Quantum's territory and pick up a lot of juicy job offers from people who usually used Quantum, but were now relunctant to do so. What can I say? Someone else's loss is our win. That's what life in our business is like. 

While Beka and Vex laughed over the delivery guy at Quantum, who was probably getting an earful from his boss right now, Harper was scampering around in my walls.

He'd taken a panel off my wall, and was currently sitting inside, and apparently it didn't bother him that sparking wires hung inches away from him on all sides and he was sitting in what basically was a huge electrical generator. Over sized goggles—they were Vex's—sat crookely on his nose and he was busy soldering wires together with Vex's soldering wand. Sparks flew around him and reflected eerily in his blue eyes. He still looked quite a sight dressed in Vex's oversized shirt whose sleeves nearly hung past his elbows, and Vex's pants into which we still could have fit at least three of him. Beka really needed to get him some new clothes. He was sitting cross legged on a metal box containing a part of my very impressive engine. I inwardly shuddered at what would happen should he accidently drop the solder and let the stream of hot light hit the box he was sitting on. I'd have a fried earthling on my hands. The thought entered my database that I don't have any hands, but I shoved that into my bin of random, stupid thoughts and continued guarding my future engineer.

Carefully turning the soldering wand off, he put it down beside him and grabbed a scanner lying next to him and punched various buttons on it, wanting to see if the wires were all running the way they should. At first, he pressed the wrong button and the scanner started blinking. Swearing quietly and quickly glancing up at Vex and Beka—who were still laughing—he hid the scanner beside him and madly punched around on it until it stopped blinking. Finally, he found the right button and checked the wires. They all checked out okay. 

A small, proud smile flickered across his face as he glanced up at the sparking wires surrounding him.

"That's better, ain't it, Maru?" he whispered. 

Yes, it certainly is. Thank you, Harper. Of course, he didn't hear me, but that didn't matter. He knows I'm thankful for everything my crew does for me. When you're completely dependant on your crew for almost everything you'll learn very quickly what it means to be grateful for something. You don't know how painful it is to have a snarl of wires in your slipstream core for days on end.

Setting the scanner down, he pushed the goggles up. The over-sized plastic glasses refused to stay on his forehead and promptly fell onto his nose again. Swearing under his breath, he shoved them up until they were standing propped up on that insanely spiky hair of his. 

Rubbing his eyes, he must have felt Beka's eyes on him for he yanked his hands down and looked across the floor at him.

Beka had stopped laughing and was only smiling in amusement as she stared across the floor at Harper. She'd watched him out of the corner of her eye as he figured out how to use the scanner, and had seen the small smile when he realized he'd fixed the sensors. 

The sense of pride and accomplishment which always accompanied his being able to fix anything that was broken was something which never disappeared. It was plain to see in that little smile, that tiny spark in his eyes. 

Harper fixed things not only for the pure joy of being able to fix something, but because he needed to fix things. His entire life had been one broken mess which he had never been able to fix, and now, he found he could fix lots of things. Mend them. Make them whole again. It was something he never stopped being proud of. Later on, this need to build and fix things grew when he was on the Andromeda. There he could not only mend things, but he could built things from scratch. Building something out of nothing. It was something he had always tried to do but had never been able to do. Not where he came from.

Beka grinned at him. "Well, my ship is no longer half blind, Harper. Good job."

Harper shrugged. "Ain't took that long."

"It's not 'ain't', it's 'didn't', and it's not 'took' but 'take'. But anyway, that's beside the point." She jerked her head towards the door. "Let's go."

He stared at her, not moving a muscle. "Where's we going?"

A couple of days ago he wouldn't have dreamed of asking something like this, but he was slowly learning that Beka didn't mind being asked questions, and in fact, encouraged him to ask things. She would deliberately not tell him something, waiting for him to ask before telling him more. 

"We're going shopping."

Blinking at her, he looked like he wanted to ask why they were going shopping, but decided that asking one question at a time was as far as he'd venture.

When he still didn't move, Beka raised an eyebrow. "What? Your ass glued to that generator box? Let's go already. We landed two hours ago and the docking patrol's said we can only stay for five hours. Some crap about an ambassador coming with his entire family and needing the docking space. Come on already."

Not needing to be told twice, he leapt out of the wall and landed on the floor without a sound. As he started walking towards Beka, he suddenly stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

As if he was reading his thoughts, Vex waved a dismissive hand at him.

"Forget about it, Harper. I'll clean it up. I have to get up anyway. My back's getting stiff from leaning against this wall." Groaning, Vex pushed himself up and dropped the flexi onto the ground and went over to the wall. 

Harper scampered across the floor towards Beka, who called "Bye, Vex. Don't break your back in half digging around in that wall." and then walked towards the airlock.

As Harper quietly walked his usual two paces behind her, Beka glanced at him. "Aren't you going to be cold just in that shirt?"

He shrugged. 

Beka sighed. "Harper, give me something more to work with here."

Scowling slightly, Harper looked down at the floor. "I ain't mind. I's used to the cold."

Nodding, Beka continued towards the airlock. Reaching it, she opened it and hopped down onto the berth I was parked in.

Harper paused in the open airlock, and was staring at the floorboards of the berth with apprehensive eyes. It just occurred to me that he hadn't stepped foot outside of my walls for weeks already and that this would be first planet next to earth which he would put foot on.

Beka laughed when she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. "Come on already! The docking station won't bite you know."

Glancing at her, he seemed to be fighting a mental battle between running back to the crew quarters or jumping into yet another strange world he didn't know how to live in.

Seeing Beka standing below him must have helped give him some courage, for he jumped down, landing soundlessly on the cement floor.

Beka grinned at him and started striding towards the station door, Harper at her heels, exactly two paces behind her. 

Just before they reached the door, Beka stopped and rummaged around in one of her holsters. Pulling out a gun, she turned around to hand it to Harper.

Seeing the gun, the latter leapt aside, his eyes widening.

"Harper, would you relax? I'm giving you this gun so you can use it, not so I can shot you with it."

He quietly looked back and forth between her and the gun. Then he shook his head.

"I ain't need a gun."

Beka raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"

A shrug.

Sighing, Beka tried again. "Okay, let me rephrase. What are you going to do if somebody jumps you from behind?"

"Only stupid people 'ttack from the back. Anybody with decent senses can feel 'em coming from a click away."

This must Harper's so-called spider sense. I still didn't understand it. A spider was an insect and Harper was a human being. Why would he have an insect's senses?

Beka blinked and stared at him. "Okay, not what I asked. I'll rephrase again. What do you have on you that you can use as a weapon?"

Harper crouched down and pulled out the kitchen knife which he always kept hidden in a little pocket on the bottom of his pants. He'd made the little pocket late one night when Vex was sleeping. It was the exact same way he used to keep his old knife.

Beka looked at the knife. "Does Vex know you're using his vegetable chopping knife as a cutting knife?"

Harper shrugged. "I's still using it as a chopping knife, just ain't for veggies no more." 

Beka sighed and ruefully shook her head, rolling her eyes before turning around and walking towards the door. While she walked, she tugged the gun back into its holster and Harper slipped his knife into its hidden pocket with the ease of one who had grown up constantly slipping that knife to and from his pants. Standing up, he quickly scrambled after Beka, but didn't come close enough to her to close that two pace space between them.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          

Three hours later they were back. Unfortunately, they were ten minutes late, and I could hear the ambassadors impatient ships hovering above me. I knew that Beka would have to pay quite a heavy over-time charge.

Creeping into the station as quietly as they could, they ran towards me, crouching low to the ground, holding enormous shopping bags in their hands. When Beka was about to reach up and open the airlock, Harper suddenly tensed up and he spun around while crouching on the ground, his eyes staring into the dimming light of the station. 

"Other side." He whispered to Beka and without waiting for an answer, quickly scuttled across the berth and hid on my other side.

Beka stared after him, a frown on her face. "Harper, what the hell?" she whispered to the empty spot beside her. Grumbling from annoyance, glancing around herself and clutching her bags to her, she crept over to my other side. Reaching Harper, she crouched down beside him and opened her mouth to ask him what the hell that was about, when Harper swiftly held his finger up to his lips and shook his head.

Beka abruptly shut her mouth. She'd quickly learned that when Harper told someone to stay quiet, it was best to not ask questions and just do it.

Moments after Beka had crouched down on the ground, confused and annoyed, bags surrounding them, I spied two people coming out of the little office in the station and coming towards the Maru.

One of them nodded at me with his chin.

"Red head back yet?"

"No, haven't seen her."

The first one swore. "I told her to be out of here ten minutes ago—fifteen by now."

"Relax a little. She ain't that late. Doesn't matter. Besides, we can charge her double for the over-time and keep the bonus for ourselves. Should buy us a few decent drinks by the time our shifts are done."

The first one swore again and looked at his friend in exasperation. "Idiot! You hear those ships buzzing around up there like hornets?"

"Yeah, but I thought they were just—"

"Yeah nothing. Those are the ambassadors ships up there and he's been getting mighty pissed from the wait. Says he'll leave if the red head and this bucket aren't out of here in the next five minutes. And when he leaves, so does his payment."

"Ah, shit." The second one pursed his lips, thinking. "You tried knocking on the airlock?"

"Yeah. Either nobody's there or they know I was knocking about the over-time charge."

"Damn smart-ass spacers."

"You're telling me."

The second one spat on the floor. It was a relief seeing someone spitting on a floor that didn't belong to me. "Well, I say we go, get ourselves a beer and then come back and plant our asses in front of that airlock and when she comes, we'll make that wallet of hers a mighty bit lighter."

The first one laughed at that and both of them turned around and left.

Moments later, Beka glanced at Harper, who was staring after the two men. Only when he was sure they were out of range, he gave Beka a nod. 

Standing up, the two of them hurried around me and ran to my airlock. Punching the code into the access panel, my airlock whined open. Leaping onboard, the heavy shopping bags in both of their hands, Harper dropped the bags and quickly slammed my airlock shut.

Meanwhile, Beka yelled to Vex and Bobby to hang on because she was going to rip my controls out leaving faster than she had ever left a station in her life.

When Vex wanted to know what the hurry was, Beka grinned as she threw herself into the piloting chair and revved up my engines. 

"I spent every throne I had on me to buy that beast clothes and shoes. I don't think I can afford even a cheap beer, never mind pay an over-time charge."

Bobby's disapproving grumble drifted down from where he sat in the kitchen. "I told you not to spend so much money on the freak. He doesn't deserve a throne of our money."

Beka rolled her eyes as she turned my thrusters on and I rose up from my berth and into space.

"Can it Bobby. It was my money and there's no way in hell I'm going to have someone onboard this ship living in someone else's clothes into which you could fit three of him."

I couldn't make our Bobby's grumbled reply as he went to get his whisky bottles, but I didn't want to. 

My captain couldn't hear the reply either, but heard the grumble. Smiling and shaking her head, she pushed my controls forward and I shot out of the atmosphere, leaving behind two angry dock patrols and a huge over-time charge. 

On our way up, we zipped past a small huddling group of the ambassadors ships. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at them. Not that I have a tongue.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

Buying Harper clothes and shoes was one thing. Getting him to wear them was something else. While he was quite agreeable when it came to the clothes, he absolutely refused to wear the shoes. 

After Beka had been pleading with him for ten minutes about putting them on and had started yelling to get him to listen to her, she was just about to reach the end of her rope.

Running a hand through her hair, she swore and glared across the crew quarters at Harper, who was standing beside his mattress in his corner and was wearing his new clothes. 

I will be the first to say that the clothes were the ugliest things I had ever seen. Bright red cargo pants that hung loosely around his hips and were barely held up by a thin belt and were so baggy that I could have sworn two Harper's could have fit in them. His shirt was a neon green color—a horrible combination with the red pants—which was hanging over his belt, but at least the sleeves fit properly and I could actually see his hands. 

Next to Harper, I think I was the only one who knew the real reason he preferred to run around in clothes that engulfed him. Not only was he used to wearing clothes that were five times too big for him, but the baggier the clothes were, the less chance there was that anybody would glimpse the body Harper was hiding beneath them. 

But, asides from the two of us, nobody knew this, nor would they until quite some time later.

When Vex had seen him at first, he had raised his eyebrows and then turned to Beka, an amused smile on his lips.

"I thought you said the purpose behind this shopping expedition was to buy him clothes that actually fit him."

Beka had scowled and glared at him. "Well, I tried. The beast wouldn't touch anything that looked like it could remotely fit him and hardly said a word the entire time. The only time he ever said anything was when we found one of those huge bins with all the clothes thrown into them that don't fit anybody, or nobody would be caught dead wearing. Apparently, he liked those. I didn't ask. I was just happy enough to get some sort of reaction out of the blank faced beast. He gave a small smile and pointed at them. It was the most reaction I've gotten out of him in three days. I just reached over, grabbed them and bought them. Hey, at least they're clean and the shirts fit him and he likes them. All I care about." She grumbled. Then she frowned and scowled at Vex. "Besides, what do you care what he wears? At least he isn't wearing your clothes anymore."

Her mood hadn't improved, especially when Harper refused to put on his shoes. He'd been willing enough with the socks, since he thought they were 'a mite bit comfy', but when it came to putting on shoes, he refused to budge.

So, there he was, standing in his new clothes with new socks poking out from the bottom the huge red cargo pants, and a scowl on his face. When Beka crossed her arms and glared across the room at him, he glared right back.

Beka tried one more time. "Harper, they're shoes for god's sake! They won't bite you. Just put them on and you'll see."

He glared and stubbornly shook his head. My captain swore again and grumbled in annoyance. When that didn't even get a blink out of him, she threw up her hands.

"Damn it, Harper! Just put them on. They're shoes! Everybody wears shoes—"

"I ain't wear no shoes."

"Yeah, but you will. And if you don't, I swear, I'll throw you, those new clothes and those damn shoes all into the boiler and slam the door shut!"

He glared. "Ain't nobody back home that wears shoes."

She glared right back. "That's because down there nobody can afford shoes. Up here, everybody can afford shoes. You're up here now, that means you have to wear shoes too."

"I ain't ever had no shoes. I ain't need them." He exclaimed, sounding angrier than I'd ever heard him before.

"Harper—"

"No."

"_Harper_—"

"No."

Beka threw up her hands and looked like she was barely restraining herself from leaping across the room and strangling him. "Oh, my god! What the hell is so difficult about wearing shoes? Why are you being such an ass about this?"

Harper shrugged.

Beka raised a finger and pointed it at him. "Don't you dare give me that shrug. Not now. Give me a straight answer, or I swear, I'll call Bobby and he'll throw you into the boiler. Or better yet, out the airlock."

Beka raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms as she stared across the room at him. 

Harper glared at her before he realized she wasn't joking, and abruptly dropped his gaze. He found himself staring at the black boots which Beka had tossed over to him and he'd scrambled away from.

He looked like he was about to shrug, but he must have felt Beka's glare digging into him, since he shifted around uncomfortably and stayed quiet.

Beka sighed. "Well? Let's hear it. I want a straight answer here. Why don't you want to wear the shoes?"

His gaze darting back and forth between her and the boots lying on the floor between them, he nervously licked his lips before finally muttering an answer.

"The folks with shoes're always the ones getting thieved."

She blinked. "Thieved? What the hell does—" She stared at him for a moment, before she seemed to realize what he'd meant. "You mean stolen from?"

He nodded, still staring at the floor.

An exasperated smile flickered across my captain's face as she rolled her eyes, the glare disappearing from her face.

She laughed. "Is that it? You're scared someone is going to steal them from you?"

He glared at her quietly. 

That made her laugh harder. "Oh, god, Harper. Nobody is going to steal your shoes from you! Not here anyway."

He wasn't convinced.

She dropped her arms and stepped slightly closer to him. "Harper, listen to me, okay? People only steal things that they don't have, right?"

He nodded, staring at her out of the corner of his eyes as he kept his gaze on the floor.

"Right. Then tell me, if everybody up here is wearing shoes, then is there any reason anybody will steal them from you?"

His gaze darted around nervously while he thought this over. Finally, he shrugged in response.

Beka grinned at him. We both knew that Harper's shrugs spoke a lot more than anybody else's shrugs did. 

"Okay, then." She nodded her chin at the boots and folded her arms. "Put them on already. We don't have all day."

Slowly creeping across the floor, he crouched down and ran a light finger over the shiny black leather of the boots. He lightly touched the lacings and the rubber soles before glancing up at Beka.

Beka smiled. "What?"

"Them's awful nice looking shoes." He said, not taking his eyes off them. 

My captain chuckled. "They better damn well be. They cost us an arm and a leg."

Harper sat down and slowly pulled them on, tugging his pants over them. Beka frowned.

"No, Harper. Tug the bottom of the pants in them. It's safer. That way you won't trip over them when you're running and you can't get them caught on fire when you're creeping around in my ship's walls. Trust me. It happened to Rafe. Nearly burned his legs off and ruined his favourite pair of pants."

When he scowled up at her, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Well, you wouldn't have to if you didn't buy pants that're so damn big that three of you could easily fit in them."

"I ain't buy them."

Beka pretended to glare. "Wise ass." She muttered.

Harper grinned briefly before obediently tugging his pants into the boots. He was about to stand up, when Beka raised an eyebrow and nodded at the laces. "Unless you want to trip head first into your dinner, I suggest doing them up first."

Harper frowned down at the boots. "Doing what up?"

Beka gaped at him before a realization suddenly hit her. Both of her eyebrows rose up and she stared down at him in annoyance and amusement.

"Don't tell me you don't know how to do up your own laces."

Harper shrugged. 

Chuckling quietly and swearing at him, Beka sighed and sat down on the floor beside him. Leaning down, she undid her own laces. 

"Okay, now watch. I don't have all day here. It's really easy but be careful. You can get them knotted up really badly and you'll have a hell of a time trying to undo them. Okay, you watching?"

Harper nodded, staring at her boots. Beka held up one of her laces and made a loop with it and held it up for him to see.

Leaning down, Harper made a loop out of one of his own laces too. 

"Alright, now take the other lace—that's right—and wrap it around the loop once and then tuck it through that little hole and make another loop—no, no, no, Harper. Not through the loop hole, the other hole."

Scowling, Harper threw up his hands, sending his tangled laces flying out of his hands. 

"It ain't working."

Beka rolled her eyes. "Harper, you're the most impatient person I've ever come across."

"I ain't impatient. Stupid fucking string thing wouldn't loop proper."

Beka burst out laughing. "Harper!"

When he just glowered at her, she waved it off and told him to untangle his lances and try again. Grumbling something over this being a waste of time, he reached down and undid them. After watching Beka do it one more time, he frowned in concentration and carefully made a loop with one of the laces. After wrapping the other lace around the loop, he tugged it through and then glanced up at Beka. When she gave him an encouraging nod, he looked back down carefully pulled on the two loops. Suddenly, the loops tightened and Harper held a little bow in his hands.

His eyebrows shot up and a tiny, proud smile flickered across his face and he quickly glanced up at Beka, who grinned at him.

"Good. Now do the other one."

The second one was easier. He nearly got them tangled up again, but Beka stopped him in time. She was about to reach out and pull his hand back from putting the second lace through the wrong loop again, but stopped herself. 

Instead, she shook her head when he glanced at her. Sighing and grumbling, he stared at his laces in annoyance, before remembering and then doing them up the right way.

Finally, he was looking down at two perfect little bows on his new boots. 

Beka was just finishing her own laces when Harper wiggled his feet around and looked back and forth between her boots and his. Leaning back on his hands, he scrutinized their boots.

"Know what?"

Beka glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she leaned back on her own hands after doing up her boots. "What?"

Harper nodded his chin at his boots, a tiny playful smile on his face. "My strings look prettier."

My captain's mouth dropped open as she jerked her eyes down to their boots. 

Beka narrowed her eyes at him when she saw her laces were done up right and the bows were perfect. "No, they don't." she guffawed, pretending to be insulted. "You lying little—"

Without another word, Harper leapt up with a small chuckle and ran out of the room towards the kitchen, Beka's indigant retorts flying after him. 

"Hey! You come back here, mister! I'll show you whose got the prettier bows out of the two of us! Are you listening to me?"

Vex's eyebrows rose as Harper came flying into the kitchen, that sparkle in his eyes and tiny smile playing on his lips.

Beka's insulted voice drifted down to them and made Vex raise his eyebrows even more.

Putting his hands on his hips, he stared down at Harper.

"What in the world was that about?"

Harper shrugged. Vex rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "Just as I thought. On second thought, don't tell me. I don't think I want to know."

With that, Vex turned back to the stove to stir a pot of gravy for that night's mashed potatoes.

Harper quietly slunk over to his chair and sat down on it, peering over his shoulder towards the crew quarters from time to time, a grin on his face.


	10. Chapter 10

The Diaries 

Chapter 10

Database Records Archive: 18 (10088)

Specific Time: Three days ago after a conversation Andromeda and I had.

It's time to address a little issue which Andromeda brought up the other day. When I told her about Harper's insomnia and his adament refusal to touch his mattress—never mind sleep on it, she didn't believe me. She even laughed at me. To prove myself right, I'll sort through my records and pull out my night time records. I'll warn you though, my internal sensor perception isn't too great so the scenes look a lot darker than they really are. Oh, well. Onwards we go, and I'll show Andromeda who gets the last laugh.

Database Records Archive: 19 (10083)

Specific Time: During the next two months (a collection of various records)

Harper's insomnia drove me insane. And we all know what happens when ships go nuts—images of the Pax flood my memory bank. 

I have no idea how much he used to sleep at night on earth, but however much it was, it couldn't have been more than a few hours at most. Remembering the way earth's streets had been empty and oddly still during the day and how they came alive at night, my first deduction had been that most people slept during the day and lived during the night. But, then again, I distinctly recall that Harper never seemed tired during the day when he first came onboard. My next guess was that he never slept. I dismissed this thought almost immediately. Sentient beings all need sleep, in one form or another. Human beings were a prime example for needing a lot of rest, especially frail ones like Harper.

But, Harper had apparently fallen out of the habit of sleeping a lot. He could scamper around the entire day, fixing things, following Beka or Vex around and eating food and having showers, and at night, he'd be just as lively. After thinking about this for quite some time—you see how useful my processors are—I came to a rather sad conclusion that made me wish I didn't dwell on such things.

During the day time, Nietzschean patrols and slavers roamed around the streets, bored and looking for something to entertain them. Beating people up, stealing from them, raping them and laughing at them were such forms of entertainment. With these potential threats roaming around, people soon learned that sleeping people were more vulnerable targets, and thus, everybody—even little children—learned never to sleep during the day time. At night time, the patrols got less frequent, and the cloak of darkness provided the opportune time for people to come out of the hiding places where they had been keeping quiet, tense watch throughout the day. These were the times when food had to be found, clothes had to be stolen, money had to be acquired—in one way or another—and life had to be lived. Thus, nobody slept during the night either.

During the day, time was too dangerous to sleep in, during the night, time was too valuable to sleep in.

Starting from when they were very young children, everybody got pulled into a habitual insomnia which nobody ever questioned or frowned upon. After years of only sleeping—rather, dozing—for a few hours every day or night, nobody felt the need to sleep more and were just as lively as those people who sleep eight or more hours a night.

Seamus Harper was one of these people. For nearly twenty years, he had hardly ever slept through a night, except for times when he was sick—and being caught in a delusional fever is just not the same thing as sleep. 

When he came onboard me, his habits didn't change. The reason he never slept more than a few hours a night and even during those hours did no more than doze lightly wasn't because he was particularily afraid to sleep, but just because he didn't need anymore sleep.

It wasn't healthy, and it annoyed me beyond belief, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Every night after the dinner dishes were cleaned up and everything that needed to be done was done, my crew would get ready for bed.

Beka would go into her own room, brushing her hair and yelling at Bobby to remember to turn my auto-pilot on. Bobby would either go into Beka's room and spend the night there, or he'd go into the crew quarters, take off his shirt, turn the light off and glare at Harper and nod to Vex before throwing himself under his covers and drifting off to sleep. Vex would go and have a quick shower, riding himself of the cooking oil and machine oil which had coated his hair and hands during the day, and then he'd change into his pajamas and crawl into his bunk, smiling at Harper and calling good night over to him.

During this whole time, Harper wouldn't move a muscle. Sitting in his usual corner beside his mattress, he'd have his knees pulled up to his chest and would stare at Bobby until the latter glared at him and made him avert his unwavering, mistrusting stare. Then he'd glance over at Vex and give him a quiet nod when the older man smiled at him and told him to have a good night. 

After his first night, Vex had never brought up the issue about Harper sleeping on the mattress and getting some sleep. At first, he didn't want to get too pushy and send Harper into an insecure, paranoid frenzy, but later he seemed to realize that Harper didn't need a lot of sleep anyway, so he didn't bother him about it. A few times a week when Harper's insomnia threatened to catch up with him, Vex and Beka would both quietly coax him into sleeping for a few hours.

A few minutes after my captain and—most—of her crew were in bed, the sounds of them having drifted off to sleep filled my empty corridors. 

Bobby was snoring loudly on his bunk, Vex was breathing deeply and Beka was nearly suffocating herself by sleeping with her face nearly completely turned into her pillow. It was a lethal habit of hers that had started when she was a little child and she had always wanted to escape her nightmares' demons by burying her face in her pillow. Over the years, the demons had disappeared, but the habit remained, and I couldn't help but constantly monitor her breathing and make sure she was still breathing.

Even after everyone would be in deep slumber, Harper wouldn't move. He'd sit there, his blue eyes constantly darting through the darkness between Vex and Bobby, but mostly resting on Bobby. The dim lights from my corridors always reflected in his eyes and made them glow in such an eerie way that he reminded me of a tense deer, waiting in the darkness for any dangers to disappear. 

Ten minutes after everyone was asleep, Harper would calm down slightly. The tension and paranoia slightly eased up and he'd drop his guarded stare and stare at the floor, or his new boots and the way the leather gleamed in the dim light, or he'd trace the stitchings in the mattress.

When he was sure that Bobby wouldn't be moving anytime soon, he'd quietly lean forward and undo the lacings on his boots and pull them off and then tuck his socks into them. Gently putting them down beside the mattress, he'd crouch on his bare heels and then soundlessly crept across the floor, past Vex's slumbering form and Bobby's snoring form. Never taking his eyes off of Bobby, he'd even hold his breath as he passed him and wouldn't start breathing again until he was out of the room.

Only once had he been close to being caught. When he was nearly past Bobby's bed, the latter suddenly stirred and woke up.

Harper's spider sense alerted him to Bobby's waking a split second before he opened his eyes.

His eyes widening in panic, Harper dove underneath Bobby's bunk and curled up in a tiny ball, wedging himself into the farthest corner under the bed.

Not making a sound, he covered his nose with his hand and stopped breathing as he waited for Bobby to get up. It probably never occurred to him that Bobby wouldn't have heard him if he sneezed a few times. Bobby's hearing was a far cry from that of a Nietzscheans. I've heard Nietzscheans could not only smell a persons fear from a block away, but could hear someone breathing from two rooms away. 

Yawning, Bobby stretched and grumbled a curse. Throwing the covers off himself, he got up and shuffled out of the room and to the bathroom, still half asleep.

Only when he was out of the room did Harper allow himself to breath, and even then, he held his breath again when he heard Bobby coming back to the room.

Yawning again, Bobby grumbled something else that neither Harper nor I could make out, and threw himself into his bed and yanked his covers back over himself. Turning his back to the room, he mumbled something else before drifting off to sleep again.

Harper didn't move and remained curled up underneath his bunk until he heard Bobby's snoring start.

Then he pulled himself out and used the holes in the metal grating of my floor to pull himself towards the door on his stomach. When he had gotten to the doorway and had crouched back onto his heels, only then did he start breathing normally again.

Pulling himself up with the doorframe, he'd apprehensively peer back into the room, checking to make sure Bobby wasn't moving anymore than he was supposed to. 

Then he'd turn and quietly move down the corridor. He always kept close to my walls, as if he thought I couldn't see him if he crawled up my walls. Yeah, he wishes. He forgets that I'm what they call 'impressive'. (I threw that thought in just for Andromeda. Ignore it. It's just a touch of warship-cargoship rivalry.)

During his first few night time escapades he'd usually just sneak around, looking around. He'd peek into Beka's room, scamper up and down ladders into the cargo holds, and stare around my cock pit or other little rooms which we never used (one of which would later become Trance's mini-hydroponics room). Whenever he found a new room or corridor he hadn't seen before, he'd just tiptoe around it, looking at everything but never touching anything. It was as if he was afraid Beka or Bobby would be able to sniff around and tell that he'd touched something in a room he wasn't supposed to be in. Once again I longed to tell him that nobody onboard had Nietzschean senses, or had anything remotely close to them. Come to think of it, the person with the most accute senses would have to be Harper. He could see through daylight and darkness equally well and he knew the smell of everyone onboard. This last part I had come to realize when Harper would repeatedly melt into a wall somewhere or quickly duck out of the way after sniffing around, and sure enough, moments later, Bobby would come striding down the corridor. 

When I say that Harper looked at everything during these nightly sight seeing tours, I meant it. He'd look in every corner, nook and cranny. The tops of tables, wires hanging between pipes on my ceiling, little bits of trash and dust bunnies crammed into hidden corners, Harper didn't miss any of them. A few times it looked like he wanted to open a drawer or cupboard and peek inside, but he never touched them. If I had any worries about Harper stealing anything, my fears were laid to rest the night Harper was creeping around my cargo hold and came across an open storage crate Bobby had been digging through for spare flexi's. It was the crate in which my old captain had put all of his wife's belongings—including her jewelry—after she had passed away. Why Bobby was digging through that to find flexi's, I will never know, but he didn't take any jewelry, but only messed them up a bit and then turned to another crate where he finally found some empty flexi's. Of course, he hadn't bothered to clean it up. You might be thinking my captain has quite a few marbles lose up upstairs since she keeps these old and valuable jewels in a crate in the cargo hold. Truth be told, it was the safest place we could put them. We had learned the hard way that thieves tended to go straight for people's sleeping quarters and ransack those and rarely took the time to go into cargo holds, where they had learned people only kept the junk they hardly needed.

Harper had been sneaking around, winding his way through tall stacks of crates and open boxes of spare parts which he curiously looked at but never touched. After tearing his eyes off of an old scanner which was just lying on the ground and hadn't been used since the Commonwealth fell, he quickly spied the open box. 

Creeping up to it, he crouched down beside it and lightly held onto the sides with his hands while peering inside. A few dresses and sweaters lay strewn around the crate, along with old flexi's of wedding photos, anniversaries and Beka and Rafe's birthday parties on Infinity's beaches. One of the flexi's was turned on—probably Bobby had accidentally pushed it while rummaging through the crate—and Beka's mother stared up at Harper.

The latter curiously stared down at the picture. She had the same red hair that her daughter had, only it was redder than Beka's was. Their eyes were the same color too. A sparkling pale blue. Even though Beka had always been daddy's little girl, there was never any doubt in anyone's mind that she looked exactly like her mother. Rafe had looked more like Ignatius. 

Her smile was something else which she had given her daughter. A crooked, little half smile that shone of laughter and humor, but had an underlying toughness laced into it. Exactly like Beka.

Harper cocked his head to the side as he looked down at her.

"You must be the captain's mother, ain't ya, m'm?" he whispered. Of course she didn't answer him. She just kept on smiling up at him, her eyes twinkling. 

Harper gave her a tiny smile. "You look a huge heap like her."

She smiled.

When it came to talking to people, Harper never felt comfortable doing that. At least, not at first. There were too many questions they could ask, too many answers they might want. He was always terrified of saying too much, or too little or giving the wrong answer. 

Talking to objects or machines—such as myself—and people who couldn't talk anymore was safer. We couldn't answer him even if we wanted to. For Harper, this had a a hint of relief in it, for me, it had a hint of frusteration in it.

Leaning over, he peered into the rest of the crate. It didn't take him long to see the jewelry.

Necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets all lay scattered amid folds of clothing which hadn't been worn for more than a decade and lay in clusters around the picture of the woman who used to wear them. The jewels in them glimmered and sparkled in the dim light drifting up into the cargo hold from my corridors. Most of them were fake, since my captain was never in such a state of luxury that he could afford the real versions, but his wife had never cared. As long as they sparkled and as long as he put his heart into buying them, she didn't care how much they had cost.

Harper's eyes widened as he stared at them. The bright and colorful jewels shone among the dark contents of the crate and I swear they reflected in Harper's dark eyes as he looked at them. 

Letting out a low whistle, he raised both of his eyebrows and glanced down at the picture again.

"Well, m'm, you've got yourself a mity heap of nice looking sparklys here. Must have cost a bundle."

Leaning over even more, he quietly looked at all of them, before leaning back on his heels. He looked down at the picture, from which the owner of all these jewels smiled at him proudly.

"Well, m'm, if you ain't minding much, I'll lock this crate here for ya. You ain't never know what people're gonna come thieving in the middle of the night. And I's sure that you ain't wanting to have none of these tooken. They's mity nice." He whispered. "So, m'm, is it alright with you if I close this crate and keep these sparklys safe?"

She smiled.

He gave her a tiny smile. "Alright then. Good night, m'm. It was awful nice talking to you."

He whispered, before reaching up and pulling the lid of the crate down. Careful not to have more than two fingers on it, he pushed it shut and quickly locked it. 

Going behind it, he pushed the crate back amid a pile of other crates and then looked around, before picking up a box of spare parts and gingerly setting them down on top of the crate.

Standing back, he smiled at the crate. "I's hoping that this ain't too uncomfortable, m'm, but I's sure you understands why it's necessary."

Turning around, he quietly crept across the metal floor to the ladder and swung himself onto it. Before he clambered down, he looked across the floor at the crate.

"Good night, m'm." he whispered before soundlessly scampering down the ladder and dropping onto the floor of my corridor. Turning around, he crept down the corridor, looking for more rooms to explore.

After a few days, he had peeked into every nook and cranny he could possibly find and had uncovered countless piles of trash, dust and broken spare parts which hadn't been touched since Rafe had left. I felt a little guilty every time Harper stopped to stare into a miniscule corner in a room and stood there, contemplating the odds and ends which lay there. It made me want to berate my captain until she promised to clean it all up, but I knew I couldn't. 

In the nights following his exploring came long nights of wandering around and wasting time. Maybe if one would ask him exactly what he was doing, he might give a reasonable answer, but to me, he just looked like he was wasting time, pulling the hours of night behind him until the rest of my crew would wake up and join him in the world of the living.

He'd wander into my kitchen and poke around everywhere. The kitchen was the only place he didn't feel like an outcast and didn't have any qualms about touching anything. Beside, if he was still paranoid over his smell getting on anything, he was probably reassured by the fact that everybody—including himself—touched everything in my kitchen. He'd open cupboards, rummage around in drawers, open and close the frigdge and amuse himself by trying to open the fridge that certain amount just before the light turned on inside. From nights reminiscent of his raiding escapades with Pez, he'd quietly leap onto the counters and pull out different cans stored in my cupboards and curiously stare at the labels on them. On some nights when he happened to be hungry, he'd dig through the fridge and pull out tiny pieces of leftovers and chew on those, or he'd take out a Sparky and down that. 

Every night before he left my kitchen, he'd creep over to my sugar bowl and lift off the lid and lightly stick a finger in and grin when he licked the sweet white crystals off his finger. The expression on his face always reminded me of a small child getting to make a daily trip to an automatic candy dispenser. 

Before leaving, he'd grab a handful of nuts, cram them into his pockets, grab an extra Sparky from the fridge and then quietly made his way down my corridor.

Crouching low to the ground, his eyes constantly darting around himself, he'd creep past the crew quarters, the bathroom and Beka's room and all of those rooms sleeping inhabitants, and soundlessly sneak towards my cockpit.

Looking over his shoulder the entire time, his body as tense as a wound up spring, his eyes would glimmer eerily in the dim light of my corridors as he reached the cockpit.

Lightly running down the two stairs, he quietly sat down in my piloting chair.

Making himself comfortable, he pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged on the chair and pulled out the nuts he'd hidden in his pockets and carefully placed them on the chair's armrest. Pulling out his Sparky, he'd quietly open that, wincing when the hiss from the can was too loud—and really, being used to the silence with which Harper crept around, one which could rival the dead, the sound of a can being opened sounded like an ambush. 

Setting the open can down on the other armrest, he'd settle back and stare out of my windsheild.

We did this every night. After his exploring, sneaking and eating around was done, he'd grab something to eat and a Sparky and would come into my cockpit and sit on the chair.

He'd never touch my controls, navigational screen or the viewscreen hanging above his head. My auto-pilot could continue on and I'd continue drifting quietly through black space, my engines oblivious to the small presence sitting on the chair my captain usually sat in. 

For the long hours that remained of my crew's quiet slumber, Harper would sit in the chair, munching on nuts and sipping soda and staring out of my windsheild.

I never really understood what was so interesting out there in the blackness of space. I saw it every day of my life and flew through it regardless of day and night. But space held some fascination for Harper. He'd get excited over the smallest things.

When a particularily bright star would be shining somewhere out there amongst the faint glimmers of the other stars, he'd smile and point out at it.

"You sees that one, Maru? That one's a beauty! Real bright and sparkly looking, ain't it?"

Yes, I did see, Harper. I focused in on it with my external sensors and stared at it for a good long time, trying to see what made this star so different from the others. It contained the same proportion of gases as the others and I detected 372 stars that were pretty much the same distance away as that one. Staring at it for a while longer, I determined that Harper had to think it was pretty for another reason. I thought it over for days after and clogged up all of my processors and snarled up my sensors, but I still couldn't understand why some things held such a hidden fascination for Harper which nobody else could detect.

"Look, there, Maru! You sees that? That's another planet out there! Bit small, ain't ya think? But look at all those colors floating around over it! Ain't that one a beauty?"

"Oh! You sees those huge chunks of rock drifting around there? Man, imagine if you flew us into that. Captain would be mity pissed. But, look! Ain't it amazing how they's all staying in the same ring? Looks like my belt, ain't ya think?"

The comparison with your belt was a bit far fetched, but I can see some similarities, yes. Oh, by the way, that planet out there, it's Rodaxion IV, Harper. It has three moons, you know. If you look really close in about twenty minutes, you'll see them.

And sure enough, he did.

"Maru! You seeing those three big rocks going round that planet? Man, that planet's a mity bit bigger than it was before, ain't it? But you probably knew that, didn't ya?"

Yes, I did. But thank you for pointing it out.

"Yeah, of course you knows that." He whisperes, chuckling quietly while staring out at Rodaxion IV as he gently drift past.

It's at times like these that I realize I don't need an AI. Sure, it's frusterating at times not being able to talk to my crew, but ultimately, it doesn't matter. Why? Because they know what I'm going to say. The same goes for mute people or animals. They don't need to be able to talk, because if one can't talk, chances are, the people around them will understand what they are trying to say even better. You can listen to silence much easier than words. Silence never becomes angry or frusterated if you don't answer quickly enough, and silence never scolds you. But most importantly, silence is always with you, especially when you need it most. 


	11. Chapter 11

The Diaries Chapter 11 

Author's Note: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know this is late and I promised never to be late (_Raven lowers her head in shame_), but this next part just didn't work for me.  I wrote a total of six new chapters and deleted them all, one after the other, when they just didn't work out. Once, Harper took it over, then Beka did something completely wrong, and both times, I had to delete it all and start over. Just when I thought I'd gotten it right, my sister came in, read it and laughed at me, asking me if I intended on throwing Vex instead of Bobby out and I better not post it. It was heart breaking. I know. I have a harsh beta-reader, but at least she'll willingly get up at three in the morning to read my stuff and honestly tells me if it sucks or if it's great. So, anyway, I checked my email last night and discovered that Parisindy was dying from the lack of chapter 11, and I felt so bad that I stayed up all night and finally hammered this thing out. It took me forever and I deleted two more chapters (Bobby was just completely coming out all wrong) but I finally figured it out. I was going to do a cliffhanger, but I felt bad still, and I was only going to do two chapters, but then I felt extremely bad. So, the third chapter and the lack of a cliffhanger are all for Parisindy. I'm sorry! I promise, from now on, every second day, there will be a new chapter. I promise.

Alright, enough of my sniffeling excuses. I hope you like the next part. I don't know why it was so hard to write, but I've never been in an abusive relationship so I had to guess a few things and see if they came out sounding right. Anyway, tell me what you loved or hated and you know that I live for your feedback and write faster when I get it. 

Database Records Archive: 20 (10083)

Specific Time: Two months after Harper got his new clothes

Beka threw her hands into the air where she stood in the crew quarters. "Harper, for crying out loud! We've been over this a million times!"

He glared at her. "Yeah, and I still ain't doing it."

Beka let out a frusterated sigh. "Harper, we had a deal."

"Yeah, one which I ain't agreeded on."

She glared at him. "First of all, the past tense of agree is agreed, not that horrible mess of sounds you just blurted out, and second of all, I'm your captain and if I say a deal was made, then a deal was made."

He stubbornly crossed his arms. "No."

Beka pressed her lips together and looked like she was going to explode,  but suddenly, a glint appeared in her eyes. She had an idea.

"We'll just see about that." She said, smugly, and strode past Harper to his corner and grabbed his favourite shirt—a horrid looking Hawaiian shirt—and turned around.

Harper's eyes widened and he lunged for the shirt, but she held it up out of his reach.

"Hey! No frigging fair!" he exclaimed.

Beka gave him a tight smile. "Neither is breaking a deal."

He scowled. "We never had a stupid deal."

"Yes, we did, and you know it. You take out the earring, I let you wear whatever you want whenever you want as long as you want. That was the deal."

He blew up. "And where does it says in there that you can just take my clothes?"

She gave him an evil smile. "Oh, I'm not just taking it. You have five seconds to re-agree to our deal and comply with it, or I'm taking this shirt and throwing it into the boiler."

He gaped at her. "You can't—"

"Oh, yes I can."

He glared at her in silence. "Bitch."

"Yup, and I love you too." She raised an eyebrow down at him, still holding the shirt above her head. "So, what do you say?"

He bit his lower lip, glaring at her while he mulled over those options. He scowled at her.

"Why do I got to take out my earring anyway? It cost me five thrones to get it."

Beka carefully controlled her face expression. To me, five thrones was such a ridiculously small  amount of money that I couldn't imagine anything costing that little. But, then again, he got that earring on the same planet where leasing a human being costs three thrones. In comparison to that, five thrones must mean more than Andromeda's mortgage would.

My captain dismissed that last comment and continued staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

Harper glowered at her, until he tactfully averted his eyes and glanced down at the floor. To anyone else, he looked like he was seriously thinking his options over. To me, he looked like was putting up an act and waiting for the opportune time to grab his shirt back. Guess who was right?

Out of the corner of his eye, Harper saw Beka's arm slacked slightly when she thought he was in deep thought. Suddenly, he leapt up and made a lightening fast grab at his shirt.

My captain wasn't dumb. Far from it. She saw it coming the moment she saw his shoulders tense up slightly. Having an older brother had forced her to learn early on how to have lightening quick reflexes and keep careful notice of even the tiniest muscle twitch.

Just as Harper's fingers were about to grab the fabric, she yanked it out of his way, chuckling.

"Harper, Harper, Harper. You forget that I have an older brother. I've learned all the tricks in this trade."

Realizing his plan was ruined, he went back to glaring and scowling at her, not seeming to have the slightest inclination towards actually thinking over their deal and realizing he was getting the better end of the deal.

They glared at each other for a few more minutes until Beka finally sighed. They were getting nowhere. 

"Vex!" she yelled towards the door of the crew quarters.

Moments later, Vex poked his head into the room. "You hollered, Rebecca?"

She narrowed her eyes down at Harper. "The beast won't take his earring out."

Vex blinked. "I see." He looked back and forth between them. His old eyes glanced over the situation in a flash. Having refereed hundreds of sibling squabbles between Beka and Rafe and having helped her father negotiate a peace talk between them countless times, he knew exactly what was needed to be done. He never solved any of their squabbles for them. He just helped them along a bit until they had floundered their way to their own solution. Again, I always thought it was a pity Vex never lived long enough to meet Trance.

He looked back and forth between the scowling, thunder cloud faces and the shirt being held high above Harper's head.

He raised an eyebrow and blinked at Beka again. "Why?"

Beka frowned. "Why? Because he's a stubborn, difficult beast."

"No, no. That's not what I meant. I meant, why do you want him to take his earring out?"

My captain stared at him. "Well, isn't it obvious?"

Vex blinked. "Not particularily. Why don't you enlighten me?"

Beka sighed. "Vex, you know exactly why, but anyway. The reason is frigging obvious. It doesn't look good, and in this business, first impressions are what give us our runs. Soon enough, the beast will come along with us and help us, and with that earring, he'll send every client running to Tarn Vedra. I mean, the hair is bad enough, but I can deal with that. The clothes are horrendous, but again, I can live with that. But with the earring I draw the line. It's not me, Vex, you know that. It's for our business and our lives." She stopped and dropped the hand holding the shirt. Immediately, Harper snatched his shirt back and hugged it against himself. Beka hardly noticed. She was frowning at Vex. "But Vex, you know all that. Why the hell—"

He smiled. "Yes, I do know that." He turned and started towards the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned. "But now, so does Harper."

Beka bit her lip and stared after him before looking back down at Harper, who was still clutching his shirt possessively. She looked at him in silence for a moment, thinking over what Vex had just said. Then:

"If you didn't get why I wanted you to take out the earring, why didn't you ask?"

The usual, indifferent shrug.

Beka kept on looking at him. "Harper, whenever you're talking to someone and you don't understand something, just ask. It's okay. They won't kill you or yell at you for asking. Besides, in the long term, asking questions serves you better. It prevents misunderstandings and keeps stubborn squabbles like this at bay."

Harper stared at her, his face blank.

Beka searched his face for any signs of a reaction, but found none.

"So, you promise you'll ask questions when you don't understand something?"

A shrug.

A sigh. 

"Harper, give me something to work with here. Please. I asked if you'll promise to ask questions when you don't understand something. That's not a shrugging question. That's a yes or a no question. So, promise?"

A quick darting around of nervous eyes and a tighter clutching of the shirt, and he finally gave a small nod.

"Alright. At least we got that down. Now, getting back to our earlier misunderstanding, do we have a deal or do we have to visit the boiler?"

Another quick roaming around of mistrusting eyes, before a scowl spread across his blank face and he finally sighed in resignation.

"Fine. I'll take it out. But when we do our next run an' the guy says he ain't like my hair, I ain't shaving it off."

Beka laughed. "No. We'll give him a make-over and do his hair like yours. He'll love it and then give us a huge bonus just because of your hair. Sound good?"

Harper gave her his little, crocked half smile and chuckled softly. "Yeah."

Turning around, Beka walked towards the door and went into the bathroom. Glancing over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes at him.

"Let's go already. And for crying out loud, drop that shirt onto the mattress. There's no reason to clutch it like it's your last meal or something."

Carefully putting the shirt down beside the mattress on a pile of his other clothes, he quickly ran after Beka.

She had pulled open the cupboard above the sink and was rummaging around in it. Muttering to herself, she frowned until she finally found a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls. Taking them out she tossed them onto the sink and told Harper to put the lid down on the toilet and sit on it.

He looked at the bottle of alcohol, wary suspicion in his eyes. "What's in there?"

Beka glanced at him over her shoulder as she shut the cupboard. "Rubbing alcohol."

His eyes lit up.

"I know what you're thinking, and no, it's not for drinking. That's pure alcohol in there, Harper. The junk you and Bobby usually drink only has a small amount of alcohol in it. You drink this stuff, it kills you. On the spot. I'm not joking. An old crewman of my dad's did it. Dumb alcoholic was craving something so badly that he came in here and took a swig of it." She squatted down next to Harper and looked at his earring. "The end really wasn't pretty." She frowned at the dull metal stud. "Who the hell gave you this?"

Harper shrugged. "Don't 'member."

"Yeah, well, it's the most cheap ass metal I've ever seen. You better thank your lucky stars you didn't have showers down there. This thing would have rusted in two days flat and there would have been one hell of an infection."

That tiny smile appeared on his face. "Ya see? Drownin' yourself in water ain't healthy."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "For the millionth time, it's not called drowning, it's called a shower." Sighing, she frowned at the earring one more time, before rolling up her sleeves and grabbing the bottle and unscrewing the lid.

"Alright, I'd take it out for you, but you'll jump through the roof so you'll have to do it."

Harper reached up and somehow undid the cheap metallic mess which looked like it had been welded to his ear. After he yanked it off, he put it on the counter.

Beka let out a low whistle. "How the hell you didn't get your ear infected every day of your life is beyond me."

A shrug. "It got kinda messy once or twice. No biggie."

She snorted. "Yeah. Infection nearly kills you, no biggie. Ear falls off, no biggie. I got ya."

Pouring some of the clear alcohol onto the cotton, she handed it to Harper. Grabbing another one, she poured some more on that one and gave that one to Harper too.

Harper stared down at them. "What the hell am I supposed ta do with 'ese? Lick 'em?"

"If you want to kill yourself, sure. Otherwise, put one behind your ear and the other in front and squish them together. It might sting a bit, but you'll live."

Frowning uncertainly and then shrugging it off, he pressed them against his ear. I expected at least a tiny shudder or shriek from the sting, but Harper's face remained blank and he even tapped his boot toes on the tiles of the floor.

It was one of the first glimpses I got of Harper's unusually high tolerance for pain. 

He glanced at Beka. "When's this over?"

She waved the question aside. "When I say it's over. Keep them there."

A minute later, Beka finally nodded and Harper pulled the cotton balls away and threw them in the garbage beside the toilet. Beka was back to frowning at his ear. She bit her lip.

"Well, it looks clean enough, but with you, who knows? Remind me tonight before we go to bed to do a med scan on it and check for anything that could bring on an infection."

He shrugged, but seeing Beka's scowl form, he quickly nodded.

"That's better. You see, it doesn't kill you to take part in a conversation, now does it?"

He shrugged again, a tiny smile tugging on his lips.

"Harper! For crying out loud—" Beka exclaimed, pretending to sound upset but failing when she started laughing.

Vex's voice interupted her laughter as he called over that they were reaching Indorine, a backwater planet where a new client with a new run was waiting. 

Still laughing, Beka pushed herself off the floor and headed towards my airlock, calling over her shoulder for Harper to please put everything away and yelling for Bobby to grab her gun and to hurry his ass up and get to the airlock.

Database Records Archive: 21 (10088)

Let me get one thing straight. At the beginning, I never minded Bobby Jensen. I've seen the other men my captain has had relationships with, and let me tell you, Mr.Jensen has been one of the better ones. Sure, he swears, drinks, has a nasty temper and treats most people like crap, but he genuinely loves Beka. And that is something I can't say about most of her former 'engagements'. At least Bobby never abused her, physically or otherwise, and he never stabbed her in the back or screwed around with one of her contracts. He never tried to take me away from her, never stole from her and would go out of his way to protect her. In many ways, I could easily see why Beka loved him, and why I found myself actually feeling reassured about my captain's safety when he was around.

But, all that changed when my captain became Harper's legal guardian and it was made painfully clear to Mr.Jensen that the little 'freak' wouldn't be out of his hair for quite some time.

Bobby hated Harper. He always had, and never attempted to hide it. This wouldn't have been a problem if three conditions wouldn't have been fulfilled. If Bobby wouldn't be Bobby, and if Harper wouldn't be Harper, and lastly, if alcohol didn't affect people the way it did.


	12. Chapter 12

The Diaries 

Chapter 12

Database Records Archive: 22 (10083)

Specific Time: One month after Beka forced Harper to take his earring out

It was dinner. The only time during the day that my small crew was in the same room, doing the same thing at the same time. 

Bobby and Beka were in the middle of a heated argument. A client had contacted us a few days ago saying he had run into a 'problem' a few days ago in his ship and had been forced to escape from it in a lifepod, leaving it behind, dead in space. After having reached safety, he had to clear upa few other 'problems' and hadn't remembered his damaged, drifting ship until a few days later. Right away, he had contacted Beka and asked her to go and retrieve the ship. Beka had been hesitant, but after seeing the contract, she had leapt at the chance. I can understand why. I've seen the money the guy's attached to this. 

It wouldn't have been a problem, if the guy's ship hadn't drifted off and gotten caught on the event of a blackhole—I know, the irony isn't lost upon me either. Andromeda will be glad to know that blackholes don't only happen to her. 

Beka still wanted to go, knowing that I was perfectly capable of pulling a tiny damaged glider out of a little blackhole, but Bobby wouldn't hear of it.

"Why the hell are you being so stubborn about this?" Beka cried, raising both of her eyebrows.

Bobby rolled his eyes, swallowed a spoonful of soup and threw his spoon down beside his bowl.

"Baby, I ain't being stubborn, you're being difficult."

"Difficult?" Beka spat. "Difficult? Bobby, I'm not being difficult. It's called being reasonable. We need this damn run and you know it."

Bobby stared at her, exasperated. "Baby, I know money's tight, but it ain't tight enough to warrant us putting our asses on the line like this." He picked up his spoon again.

"We put our asses on the line everyday."

Bobby pointed his spoon at her. "Screwing around with some filthy swamp rat to get a run is way different than fucking around with blackholes. You can't shot them, you can't run away from them, and they don't even give you a chance."

"Life doesn't give you a chance, Bobby."

He rolled his eyes, grumbled and threw his spoon down again. Grabbing his whisky bottle, he took a sip.

"We still ain't doing it."

She gave a frusterated groan and ran a hand through her hair. Vex was quietly eating his soup, ignoring the situation and continued reading something on a flexi, and Harper was hunched over his bowl, one arm still hugging the bowl close to him, the spoon methodically shovelling food into his mouth while his eyes darted back and forth between Beka and Bobby.

"Look, if it bothers you so much, we can drop you off on Infinity and pick you up when we're done."

Bobby swore. "Yeah, and that'll solve all the problems."

Beka lost her patience. "What the hell do you want me to do?" she yelled across the table.

"I want you to forget about the damn run." He yelled back, slamming his bottle onto the table.

"I'm the captain here and any run that I want to do, we do!"

He shook his head. "Not as long as I'm around you don't. If I say you don't do a run because you're being dumb and you'll kill yourself, then you don't do the run."

Her eyes flashed and she slowly stood up, glaring at him. She pointed one shaking finger at him. "Don't you dare tell me what to do, Bobby Jensen! Don't you dare!"With that, she spun around, kicked over her chair by accident and stormed out of the kitchen towards her room.

The room was tense and silent for a few moments after Beka left. Vex continued swallowing spoonfuls of his soup, not even looking at the two other people sitting around him.

Bobby sat there, hunched in his chair, glaring moodily at the steaming pot of soup sitting infront of him. Drumming the fingers of one hand on the table, he grabbed his bottle with the other hand and emptied it. Not even turning around, he threw it behind him. The bottle smashed into my wall and the tiny, shattered fragments of glass and drops of leftover whisky rained onto my floor.

Neither Vex, nor Harper blinked or even moved. Harper was busy licking his spoon clean, hunched over his plate, his eyes darting back and forth between Bobby and the place on the wall which the bottle had hit. 

While Bobby glared around and Vex read, Harper figured that it might be the wrong time to ask for seconds, so he decided to muster up the courage and serve himself. He'd just been getting into the habit the past couple of days and Beka had been exhilarated when Harper meekly reached out and took a tiny serving of whatever was in front of him by himself, without waiting for Beka or Vex to do it for him. 

Never letting that mistrusting, wary stare leave Bobby, one of his hands crept across the table and silently reached towards the lid of the pot. Just when he'd lifted it up a tiny crack, Bobby scowled, reached over and slammed the lid down so quickly that Harper nearly got his fingers caught.

Yanking his hand back, Harper recoiled from the table, lowering his head, his face blank but his eyes widening with fear and mistrust.

Vex glanced up and looked between Harper's cowering form and Bobby glaring at him, his hand still holding the lid down. Vex sighed.

"Bobby, the boy only wanted seconds."

"The freak already ate enough. Besides, he eats more than any of us combined. What the hell does he think? That money and food both grow on asteroids?"

"There's plenty left for everyone to have their fair share—"

"Yeah, and he's already had more than his fair share."

"Bobby—"

Bobby's temper snapped. "Don't fucking 'Bobby' me, you snivelling old swine! When I say the freak's eaten enough, then he's eaten enough. We clear on that?" he spat, glaring at Vex.

Vex evenly stared at him without a word, then quietly blinked at him and went back to his flexi.

Bobby glared around the table once more and swore and then pushed himself up and stomped out of the room, heading for the crew quarters. 

After looking down the corridor and having made sure Bobby was gone, Vex glanced at Harper and nodded his chin at the pot.

"You're welcome to have more, Harper, if you're still hungry." Vex tried giving him an encouraging smile, but it faltered when Harper didn't answer him and remained cowering on his chair, staring at Vex with empty, blank eyes. 

Database Records Archive: 23 (10083)

Specific Time: Two days later

Earlier this morning, Harper had been scampering around in my engine room, making sure my thrusters were in top shape. Pulling a ship out of a blackhole requires excellent thrusters. And I am very proud to say I have excellent thrusters. Beka said so. You see? I really am 'impressive'. After running a final scan on them, he gave them a tiny pat, smiled at them, and told me I was 'all ready to go.' Thank you, Harper. 

When Harper had quietly told Beka they were ready to go, she had raised her eyebrows and glanced at Vex. Vex had smiled at her and waved a dismissive hand, telling her that Harper was a better engineer than he was, and if Harper said the thrusters were in top shape, that he completely trusted him. Slowly, the worry and doubt faded from my captain's eyes and she headed towards the cockpit, yelling over her shoulder for Bobby to get the exact coordinates of the ship from the guy. Neither of us felt like wandering around on the edge of a blackhole, relentlessly looking for a tiny ship. The thought of going too far and being sucked into that thing gives my hull goosebumps. And no, Captain Hunt, it's not just gamma rays, thank-you-very-much.

Having nothing else to do until we got to the ship and he and Vex would have to stay in the engine room, making sure my thrusters stayed strong enough and my engines didn't blow apart, Harper crept around, looking for interesting things to do.

The first person he came across was a drunk, grumbling Bobby Jensen. The first thought in my mind was: run, Harper, run! But of course, I couldn't scream these words at him and could only watch in tense silence.

Bobby had been in a nasty mood ever since that dinner two nights ago. He had finally given in and gone along with the run, but only after Beka threatened to throw him out on an asteroid if he didn't cooperate. Still, he wasn't happy with it. Not only was he risking his life, but Beka's life was on the line too. The only two things in the entire universe he cared about were both in jeopardy. 

He'd been drinking for the better part of the morning, and was working on his third bottle of whisky. Now, Bobby doesn't often get drunk. Drinking constantly from dawn until dusk and sometimes even through the night, his liver was trashed, but he had an extremely high tolerance for alcohol, and could easily down two bottles of whisky without appearing the least bit tipsy. But on the third bottle, even Bobby started showing signs of the liquor.

Stumbling around, grumbling and swearing, he was currently leaning against my corridor wall, staring blankly at a flexi in his hands, trying to push the right button which would turn it on and give him the coordinates Beka needed. Punching various buttons, Bobby swore at it as it remained blank. 

Harper quietly crept up behind him, soundlessly keeping close to the wall. When he was only inches away from Bobby, he crouched down, staring at Bobby with wary eyes. 

Meanwhile, Bobby continued swearing at it and then finally got fed up with it and threw it down the corridor. 

Licking his lips and nervously glancing from the floor up to Bobby and then back down, Harper tried to be helpful.

"Sir, I can turn it on for ya, if you ain't able to do it." He piped up from behind him. 

Normally, Bobby isn't skittish. Far from it. Compared to Harper, Bobby can be considered to have nerves of steel. But when he's drunk and when he's not paying attention, even Bobby can be frightened.

Eyes going wide, he jerked around, his hand immediately going down to his holster where he kept his gun. Body tense, he stared down the corridor, breaths coming in gasps, looking like he expected a monster to jump out at him. When he didn't see anyone, he must have caught sight of Harper crouching by his feet. Looking down, he glared down at him, his face still pale.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, freak?" he snarled down at him, still tense.

Harper shuffled away from him, never taking his eyes off of him. His face going pale, I could see him tense up as he realized he'd started a conversation with the wrong person.

"Uhm, sir, I was just wonderin' if ya needed any help, that's all. I ain't meaning to startle ya, sir." He stammered quietly, still shuffling down the corridor backwards, obviously scared out of his wits. 

Clutching his bottle with white knuckles, Bobby clenched his jaw and took a large step closer to Harper, still glaring down at him.

"How many damn times did I tell you not to sneak up one me, freak, huh? How many fucking times do I have to tell you? Your ears so clogged with filth that you can't hear me? Is that it?" he yelled down at him. Harper cowered closer to the floor, increasing his shuffeling. When Harper didn't answer him, Bobby grumbled something under his breath and took another step towards him and tried to kick him. 

But Harper must have sensed it coming and leapt backwards a few feet while still crouching on the floor—a very impressive feat I might add—and then shuffled away from Bobby on his hands and feet like a spider until he was crouching in the doorway of the kitchen, his scared eyes never leaving Bobby.

Realizing he'd missed, Bobby swore and hurled his whisky bottle after him. Harper ducked as the bottle hit the wall beside him and a shower of glass fragments and whisky droplets rained onto him. 

Pointing a shaking finger at him, Bobby glared at him. "Now, for the last damn time, don't come sniffing around me like a fucking dog and scare the shit out of me, you got it? Or I swear, I'll stuff you into a bottle and throw you into the boiler!" he yelled down the corridor at him. 

Not answering, Harper stared at him, still tense and ready to scamper backwards up the walls if Bobby made another move towards him. 

Swearing under his breath, Bobby turned around and unsteadily lurched down the corridor, yelling for Vex to come and look at the flexi since it appeared to be broken. When Vex wanted to know what was wrong with it, Bobby yelled back that he couldn't turn it on.

Vex appeared from the engine room and stooped to pick up the flexi. Turning it over in his hands, he frowned as he looked at it, and then quietly pressed a button and turned it on. Raising an eyebrow in obvious confusion, he looked up at Bobby. But seeing the stormy, glaring face staring down at him, Vex didn't say anything, but quietly went to the cockpit, not saying a word to Bobby and not looking at the huddled form crouching by the kitchen.  

Database Records Archive: 24 (10083)

Specific Time: Three days later

Harper was sitting in his corner in the crew quarters, knees drawn up to his chest, quietly staring around himself. He had been playing around with his shoe laces, but he froze and his eyes jerked up to the doorway when he sensed someone coming. Sure enough, Bobby was walking down the corridor, a scanner in one hand and a bottle in the other. He lurched to a stop in the doorway, leaning against it with one hand and glared across the floor at Harper.

"Hey, freak! Get your filthy little ass over here." He growled. 

Not taking his wary eyes off of him, Harper pushed himself up and quietly crept up to him. Bobby threw the broken scanner at him. Harper caught it easily, still staring at him.

Bobby pointed a wavering finger at the scanner and swallowed, having a little hard time focusing his eyes on Harper.

"You fix that. Now. I want it running in an hour." He muttered, glaring at Harper before turning around and stumbling towards the kitchen. 

Harper didn't take his eyes off of him until he heard Bobby's footsteps fading away. Then he turned the scanner in his hands before going to Vex's bunk and taking his toolbelt off the hook. Vex had told him that he could use any tool he wanted anytime without needing to ask, as long as he put them back. Harper gently rubbed the worn, brown leather and smiled quietly when the metallic tools clinked together. 

Going back to his corner, he sat down and carefully put the belt onto the mattress. Frowning down at the scanner in his hands, he ran his fingers across the screen and the buttons, trying to see what was wrong with it.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

Half an hour later, an even drunker Bobby stumbled back into the crew quarters. Harper had heard him coming—who couldn't? The man was dragging his feet and was swearing every two steps—and had lowered the scanner and sat up on his feet, ready to run if Bobby did anything.

Bobby stood in the doorway for a moment, squinting through the dim light until he saw Harper and then lurched towards him. The smell of alcohol must have engulfed the room, for Harper slightly wrinkled his nose and leaned back. From the reading I got from Bobby's blood content, he had downed another bottle in the past half hour. Run, Harper, run.

Harper was holding the scanner in his hands, cautious eyes following Bobby's every step.

"Is the thing ready yet?" Bobby growled, lurching closer, the bottle lightly swinging back and forth in his loose grip.

Harper swallowed. "Not yet, sir. I only need ten more minutes and it'll be right good as new."

Bobby glared. "You remember me asking for 'not yet', huh? No. I asked you to fix the piece of crap by the time I got back." He snarled, now standing directly above him. 

Harper didn't say anything but kept on staring at him. I could see one of his arms tensing up and I knew he was going to try and grab a tool from the mattress to defend himself with, should Bobby do anything.

Bobby gave a hollow laugh. The sound was horrifying. "What the hell do you think this is, freak? An amusement park? A vacationing resort? Huh?" he stopped walking and leaned against the wall above Harper with one hand. If Harper was feeling intimidated or scared, he didn't show it. His face remained blank and he kept on holding the scanner.

"Well, let me tell you exactly what happens on this ship. On this ship, we work. All of us. We all got shit we gotta do, and we do it. We ain't have room for slackers. Especially filthy, mudfoot slackers. Now, you're gonna do your work. All of it. And in good time too. We got that?" His voice was deathly quiet, but neither Harper nor I missed the slurring laced into the words.

Harper didn't answer him, only stared up at him, his face blank. When Bobby kept on glaring down at him, waiting for an answer, and Harper didn't even blink at him, Mr.Jensen's temper snapped.

"Don't fucking stare at me, you runt! I want a fucking answer, you insolent piece of crap!" he spat down at him, swaying on his feet from anger and liquor.

When Harper still didn't say anything, Bobby swore, reached down, grabbed the scanner from him and threw it across the room. The scanner hit the wall with a resounding crash and shattered into pieces. Metal coils, wires and fragments of the glass screen bounced and rolled around on my floor.

The loud crash didn't even make Harper blink. He was staring up at Bobby, tense as a wound up spring, ready to leap aside or crawl up the wall at a moments notice.

Seeing that he still wasn't getting an answer from Harper, Bobby let out a frusterated, angry growl, reached down and grabbed Harper by the front of the shirt.

Harper had tried to dodge out of his grasp, but Bobby was still faster and grabbed two fistfulls of Harper's shirt and lifted him up.

Glaring at him, Bobby half turned and threw Harper against the wall beside the mattress. Harper hit the wall with a loud thud but didn't make a sound as he crumbled, landing in a heap on the floor, but immediately pushing himself up so he was crouching on his feet, staring at Bobby with wary, scared eyes.

Heaving with anger, Bobby pointed a shaking finger down at him. "From now on, when I say you get work done, then you'll get the work done, and it better be way before I told you to finish, or else I'll break every bone in that filthy body of yours and throw you back out into those gutters you screwed around in your entire life." He spat from between clenched teeth, and then whirled around, swaying on his feet slightly from the momentum and stumbled out of the room, his bottle lightly swaying in his hand.

Neither Bobby nor Harper had seen Vex standing in the doorway when Bobby had thrown Harper against the wall, and neither saw him sigh softly and quietly leave after Bobby's snarled warning.

Database Records Archive: 25 (10083)

Specific Time: Five days later

Vex sighed and crouched back on his heels, wiping a tired hand across his sweat streaked face. Harper was sitting cross legged on the ground in front of him, parts of my dismantled reserve engine lying strewn around the engine room floor.

Vex gave him a tired smile. "You ready to call it quits, or do you want to keep on going?"

Harper stopped fiddling around with some wires and looked at him. He shrugged. "I ain't tired."

Vex nodded and went back to finding the matching chunk of a broken plastic covering. Even the covering of the poor engine was busted. Yup, my reserve engine was pretty much fried. Don't blame me. I don't have an AI.

They worked in silence for a couple more minutes, until Harper stopped what he was doing and glanced up at Vex. Biting his lip, he looked at him with uncertainty. 

Vex saw his glance out of the corner of his eye and knew Harper needed something. 

"What do you need, kid?" he asked kindly.

Harper nodded his chin down at the wires. "Nanowelder's too strong for these wires. It'll fry 'em. I need a laser cutter."

Vex's eyes went distant as he tried to remember where the laser cutter was. I checked around for him. It was in Bobby's tool box right behind Vex. Turn around, Vex, I urged him. It's right there. Yup, just turn seventeen more degrees and you'll see—there you go. Excellent. You see? I don't need an AI. I have a brilliant crew.

Vex had spied Bobby's laser cutter in the latter's clutter of tools lying in an open toolbox. Reaching over, he grabbed it and tossed it over to Harper.

Quietly, they went back to work, Vex trying to piece together my broken covering, and Harper cutting welded pieces of metal and wires apart.

They were so absorbed in what they were doing and the noise of the laser cutter was so loud that neither of them heard Bobby lurching down the corridor towards the engine room.

It was only when he was nearly at the doorway that Harper's sense alerted him and he turned the cutter off, his eyes tearing themselves off the wires on the floor and staring intently at the door.

Bobby staggered into the room, leaning against the doorway, the eternal bottle dangling in his grasp. He glared into the room, eyes drifting from Vex—who hadn't noticed his presence yet—to the mess on the floor, and lastly, meeting those blue eyes staring at him.

Seeing Harper's wary stare out of the corner of his eye, Vex frowned up at Harper before half turning and looking up at Bobby.

He glanced him up and down and smiled ruefully. "My dear Empress, Bobby. Couldn't you have waited until dinner to drown yourself in that horrid tasting junk? Whenever you pass out into your dinner plate you might think it's horribly amusing, but trust me, cleaning you up and dragging you to bed isn't nearly as entertaining as you might think."

Not having paid attention to a word Vex had said, Bobby narrowed his eyes at the tool Harper was holding in his hands. "How the fuck did the freak get his grubby paws on my cutter?"

The smile slid off of Vex's face and he rolled his eyes at Bobby's slur.

"He needed a laser cutter to finish the wires so I let him use yours."

Bobby didn't take his eyes off of Harper and stepped into the room. Angry, drunk eyes stared into empty, mistrusting ones. Neither gaze wavered.

Setting his bottle onto a shelf beside the door, Bobby stepped past Vex, and walked over the loose parts of my engine lying around, the fragile pieces crunching and shattering under his boots. There are really times that I wish I had internal defences. 

He took another step until he was standing above Harper. The latter had already put down the cutter and had lightly pushed it away from himself across the floor, and had started to shuffle backwards, out of harms way, but found himself backed up against a console. He crouched on the floor, tense and wary.

Crossing his arms, Bobby swayed slightly. If looks could kill, Harper would have died right then and there. But then again, in some ways, so would Bobby.

"So, what the hell makes you think you can put those filthy, grubby paws on my stuff, huh? You think you can just smother everything with the crap you drag around everywhere? Dirty things don't have any right to touch anything that doesn't belong to them, much less something that's clean."

I wanted to stuff Bobby into the boiler. It's because of people like him that Harper refuses to sleep on his mattress, touch anybody else's clothes or the linen in the storage closet. Vedran Empress, I hate that man.

Vex was looking back and forth between the two, knowing things were quickly spiralling out of control.

"Bobby, listen to me. Please be reasonable. Harper didn't damage the cutter in anyway. It's no worse off than it was before he used it. Please take a moment and think this through, Bobby."

His voice was slow and gentle. It reminded me of the way he used to talk to Rafe when Beka had accidently broken something of his.

Bobby ignored him. "You got that, you freak? Don't you dare let me catch you smearing your lice and filth on anything that doesn't belong to you, much less my stuff." That must have reminded Bobby of the cutter. "So, back to the other point, what the hell makes you think you can touch something that's mine? Huh? Without asking, and without wearing gloves—"

"Bobby, be reasonable. Please. If you're upset because he borrowed it without asking, then yell at me. After all, he wasn't the one who took it. It was me—"

"Shut up!" Bobby snarled at him over his shoulder before turning back to Harper. "You see, freak, it's enough that you're allowed to breath the same air as us decent and clean folk, but it's something else that you touch our stuff. What the hell do you think we're going to do? Disinfect everything you lay your paws on? Huh? That what you want?" His voice had risen with each sentence until he was yelling, and his swaying had intensified. When Harper appeared completely unmoved from Bobby's enraged yelling, Bobby's last grain of common sense drowned in alcohol and joined the rest of him.

Letting out raging growl, Bobby grabbed Harper and threw him against the far wall. Harper smashed into the wall and fell to the ground, but quickly scampered up and tried to run to the door, but Bobby got to him first.

Vex's quiet, pleading voice drifted over to him. "Bobby, please. Don't touch him. Leave him alone. He's learned his lesson." But once again, Bobby ignored him and stepped over to Harper's cowering, terrified form. 

Standing above him, Bobby lifted him up with one hand and drew the other hand back and smacked Harper across the face so hard that Harper's head snapped sideways and he hit his face against the metal wall. 

"Piece of filth!" Bobby snarled at him before throwing him to the ground. A tiny whimper of pain escaped Harper's lips as he landed in a heap on the ground and feebly curled up, pale and shaking, obviously thinking Bobby wasn't finished with him yet.

"Bobby!" Vex cried, anger seeping into his words. "Leave him alone!"

With another growl, Bobby spun around. "Shut up, you old, blubbering sack of bones!" He yelled at the old man and roughly shoved Vex out of his way. Vex fell over the parts lying strewn around behind him and fell to the floor, landing on his back, his head grazing against a console before he hit the ground.

Without another word, fury still radiating from him, Bobby grabbed his bottle from the shelf and stormed out of the room, going towards the kitchen.

Neither of the two people in the room moved for a few moments after Bobby left. Then Vex moaned and slowly sat up, wincing as he gently touched the back of his head. When he pulled his hand back and saw that there was no blood, he sighed in quiet relief and then grimaced as he pushed himself up to his feet, hands on his aching back.

As soon as he was standing, he went over to Harper, who had uncurled himself and was sitting up against the wall, knees drawn up, fearful eyes staring after Bobby.

"Harper? Are you alright?"

Harper tore his eyes off the doorway and glanced at Vex. He shrugged and then frowned worriedly at the older man.

"You 'kay?" he asked quietly.

Vex nodded and bit his lip when he saw the swelling in Harper's cheek from where his face had hit the wall, and the red soreness on the other side where Bobby had hit him.

Vex nodded his chin at the swelling. "That's going to be one hell of a colorful bruise tomorrow." Groaning, he stood up. "Come on. Let's get some ice on that face for you and some ice on this old nogging of mine. We could both use it."

Shaking slightly from having been tense for so long, Harper pushed himself up and followed Vex towards the bathroom, constantly glancing over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

Vex never interfered again. In the weeks that followed, during which Bobby got more and more unreasonable and violent with Harper, Vex never tried to interfere again. He knew as well as anybody else did that talking only served to fuel on Bobby's anger, and anything he tried to say to sooth the raging, drunk man would fall on deaf ears and only earn him a dose of pain, which his old bones weren't meant to take anymore. 

Neither Vex, nor Harper told Beka about what had happened in the engine room. She never suspected a thing when she saw Bobby, and Vex excused his aching back with a dismissive wave, a sad smile and a sigh of old age never being kind. Vex knew that if he told, Beka would yell at Bobby, and Bobby in turn would take it out on Harper.

When she had seen the swollen dark bruise on Harper's face, she had immediately demanded to know what had happened, but Harper quietly muttered that he had slipped on some spare part lying on the floor of the engine room and had hit his face in the console as he had fallen. 

She had immediately accepted it, laughing at him and telling him to be careful, because, who knew how long Vex and his back would be around, and she still needed an engineer.

That had been the first time. Back then, she hadn't suspected a thing and had bought Harper's story without a single frown.

But, as I said. That was only the first time.

Database Records Archive: 26 (10083)

Specific Time: Two days later, after dinner

I was just passing by Winnipeg Drift when my crew finished dinner. I personally despise the drift, just like I despise all rundown, filthy, gambling drifts, but I'm not complaining. Those gambling tables used to serve the old captain well and would keep me out of the slimy clutches of debt collectors who were hissing 'mortage' at us. 

Harper had finished his dinner early and had been creeping around, obviously bored. It wasn't until he spied the drift out of one of my portside windows that his eyes lit up. A tiny smile flickered across his face and he quietly went to my cockpit. Crouching behind the railing, he clutched it with his hands and eagerly stared outside at the passing drift, his eyes drinking it all up. As always, when Harper stared at something, I stared at it too, trying to understand what fascinated him about it. 

Colorful lights blinked and shone all around it, metallic ships glimmered in the docking ports and huge neon signs screamed into the darkness of space surrounding them, advertising the sale of anything ranging from spare parts to hookers. 

Harper stared at it with curiousity. I didn't take it that they had too many places like this on earth. The colorful lights reflected in his dark eyes and I passed by so close to it that a few of the neon signs drifted by on my floor.

We were both so absorbed with the colorful display shimmering beside us that neither of us were aware of Bobby's drunken presence until he was stumbling down the corridor. I noticed it first. I tensely watched Mr.Jensen as he lurched towards the bathroom, yawning and leaning against my walls for support. I did a quick scan of his alcohol level. When the reading came back, I found myself praying that Harper stayed out of his way tonight. 

Bobby unsteadily clutched the bathroom's doorframe and was about to go in, when a tiny movement caught his eye. Pausing, he narrowed his eyes and stared down the corridor at the small figure crouching before the railing.

Body tensing, he clenched a fist and forgot about the bathroom and slowly stumbled towards the cockpit.

It was then that Harper's senses alerted him. Jerking around, his eyes glimpsed Bobby in seconds, despite the dim lighting in the corridor. Eyes widening, his hands let go of the railing and he frantically looked around himself, searching for an escape route. 

I did a frantic scan as well, and determined that the only way Harper could duck away was to go down the corridor, and right now, that corridor was filled with the lumbering, drunken body of Bobby Jensen.

Realizing he had no place to run, Harper shrank back against the railing, staring up at Bobby with blank eyes.

Breathing heavily, the latter stopped when he had reached the cockpit. He glared down at Harper.

"Well, well, well, lookit here. The freak's in the cockpit." He whispered, his voice rough from suppressed anger and alcohol. Even though Bobby was drunk, he still wasn't stupid and he was accutely aware of Beka and Vex sitting in the kitchen down the corridor. 

Bobby came another step closer until he was standing above Harper, glaring down at him. Harper's frantic, wary eyes darted all around until he realized Bobby would snap any moment.

Run, Harper, run! I silently screamed at him.

"Now, how many fucking times did I tell you not to let me catch you in here, huh? You think you can just go dancing all over this ship? You think that when I say something that it means you can just step all over that? Huh?" he snarled quietly, leaning closer to him.

Harper leaned back from the stench of alcohol which engulfed him and stared up at Bobby, wary fear in his eyes. Then, in the blink of an eye, he grabbed the railing behind him and tried to swing himself under it. 

Bobby growled and lunged at him, grabbing his shirt and hauling him back out.

Realizing his only means of escape would come from getting away from Bobby, Harper started struggling now, trying to yank Bobby's strong gasp from his shirt. He tried to kick Bobby, but the latter only laughed roughly and turned around and slammed Harper into the wall, hands still entwined in his shirt.

Momentarily stunned from the impact, Harper shook his head to clear the stars and the impending darkness and desperately kicked his leg, trying to loosen the knife he kept in there. With a quiet clatter, the knife fell to the metal floor. Seeing it a split second before Harper could kick it behind himself, Bobby kicked it out of the way. It skittered across the floor and fell off the edge behind the railing, falling to the floor with a dim clatter.

Realizing with a sickening lurch that he didn't have a weapon now, Harper's survivor instincts kicked in. Struggling like an alley cat with it's tail caught in a dumpster, he twisted and squirmed in Bobby's grasp, clawing and spitting at him, and trying to kick him while the latter held him pressed against the wall, chuckling quietly.

Growing desperate and afraid when Bobby's grip on him didn't loosen, Harper twisted around and bit one of Bobby's hands gripping his shirt. With a hiss of pain, Bobby let go of Harper and clutched his hand on which I could see a faint trickle of blood shimmering in the dim light.

"You piece of crap." Bobby hissed at him, angrier now. 

Harper tried to dodge out of his way and run to the kitchen, but Bobby grabbed him first and slammed him against the wall again.

Holding him in place with one hand, Bobby smacked him across the face, his face slamming into the wall, the still sensitive bruise flaring in renewed pain and swelling. A tiny yelp of pain escaped his lips.

Clenching his fist, Bobby punched Harper in the guts with a dull thud which would have shattered his bones to pieces if Bobby would have delivered that to his face.

Gagging and winded, Harper weezed, still being held crushed to the wall. I was frantic, yelling at Harper to call for help, or at least cry out so Vex or Beka would come running. Oh, how I wished I had internal defences! Damn the idiot who didn't give me internal defences! I have a crew to defend here, damn it!

Getting his breath back, he struggling in Bobby's grasp, when the latter laughed quietly and punched him two more times in the stomach. Harper gagged and swallowed a mouthful of blood, before Bobby finally let go of him and dropped him to the floor.

Weezing and gasping for breath, Harper curled up in a tiny ball and wedged himself against the wall, pale and shaking.

Bobby seemed surprisingly calmer and stood above him, glaring.

"Now, if I catch you in there ever again, you'll be begging me to take you back to that dumpster you grew up in by the time I'm done with you." He snarled quietly, and then turned and went to the bathroom.

Harper quietly lay there, gasping for breath and shaking. He didn't call out for help and didn't move. I screamed for him to call Beka or Vex, or to drag himself over to the kitchen and let them see what Bobby did, but he didn't move.

After getting his breath back and the shakes seeped out of him, he slowly pushed himself up and sat against the wall, grimacing as he clutched his stomache in pain. I ran a quick scan, making sure Bobby didn't break any of his ribs, but Bobby had only torn a few fragile tissues, which would heal soon enough. A little internal bleeding, but nothing that wouldn't heal in a few days. At least Bobby had the decency not to harm him permanently.

Reaching up and gently touching the swollen bruise on the side of his face, he bit his lip at the throbbing pain. 

Licking dry, pale lips, he glanced around himself. "You won't tell, will ya, Maru?" he whispered.

I sighed inwardly. No, Harper. I won't tell. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't. Damn the idiot who didn't give me an AI. I have a crew to take care of here!

"Cause ya know what he'll do if ya tell." Harper whispered, wincing over the pain in his guts.

I sighed again. Yes, I know, Harper. Damn the idiot who invented alcohol, much less the idiot who sells it to men like Bobby Jensen. I'm sorry, Harper. I'm so sorry. I can't talk to you, I can't help you, I can't warn you. All I can do is suffer with you in silence.

I hope that's enough.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

Vex found him first. He emerged from the kitchen, calling to Beka that he was going to go and take us to the next system. He hated slipstreaming early in the morning. Beka laughed after him, telling him that old people were so damn lazy in the morning. Vex laughed back and told her 'look who's talking'. 

Chuckling, Vex walked down the corridor, but his laughter abruptly died when he saw Harper sitting against the wall, hugging his middle, head resting on his knees.

"Harper!" Vex quickly ran up to him and crouched down in front of him. It only took him a second to realize what had happened. A worried frown creased his face.

"Harper, look at me. Let me see what he did." He quietly said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

When Harper didn't move, and didn't acknowledge Vex's presence, Vex glanced upand down the corridor.

"Harper, Bobby's not here. I saw him going into Beka's room a few minutes ago. He's passed out on her bed already. He can't hurt you anymore."

Slowly, Harper lifted his head. Vex clenched his jaw and anger simmered in his gentle eyes as he saw the bruise and cut on the side of his face which had hit the wall and another bruise forming where Bobby had hit him.

Looking down to where Harper was clutching his stomach with shaking arms, Vex nodded at his stomach.

"Anything broken?"

Harper shook his head, staring intently at the floor by Vex's crouching feet. Vex sighed and swore softly under his breath. 

Biting his lip, he seemed to be debating something, before he half turned on his heels.

"Beka!" he called into the kitchen. "Come here for a minute, will you, honey?"

Harper's eyes widened and his arms went slack. "No, sir—Vex—no! Don't be telling the boss nothing! Please, sir. The mister'll be mity mad. Please, sir!" he pleaded in a weak voice, sounding close to tears.

Vex ignored him and patiently waited until Beka appeared from the kitchen, yawning and asking Vex what the hell was the matter. Vex nodded his chin at Harper, not taking his steady eyes off of Beka.

My captain frowned as she increased her pace and came closer to Harper. Her eyes aren't as adept at piercing through my dim corridors like Harper's, but it didn't take an Nietzschean to see the bruises and cuts on Harper's face.

Her eyes widened and she stopped, staring down at him with a sharp intake of breath.

"What the hell happened, Harper?" she breathed, crouching down beside Vex, and staring at Harper with confusion in her eyes.

Harper stared at her blankly, not answering.

As Beka's eyes rapidly scanned over him, looking at the bruises, the cuts and the way he was still clutching his stomach, she quickly put two and two together.

She bit her lip and quietly swore. Sighing, she looked Harper directly in the eyes.

"Harper, did Bobby do this? Did Bobby hit you?"

Harper's blank, even stare didn't change and he didn't answer her. 

Beka didn't give in. "Harper, I want an answer. A simple yes or no. That's all I want. Did Bobby hit you?"

Silence. Then: "No, m'm." He whispered it so quietly and weakly that Beka nearly missed it. 

Beka frowned, obviously knowing he was lying, but not understanding why.

She tried one more time. "Harper, Bobby isn't here right now, and he won't hear what you're saying. You don't have to lie. Did Bobby hit you?"

His steady gaze didn't falter. "No, m'm."

Beka clenched her jaw and stared at him, searching his eyes for any indication that he might give in and admit it, but found nothing. 

Something that resembled defeat dimmed my captain's eyes and she let her gaze drop to the floor. 

Nodding quietly, she pushed herself off the floor. "Alright, Harper. Put some ice on that face before you go to bed. And tonight I want you to muster up the courage and tomorrow morning give me an honest answer, okay?" she asked softly.

Harper didn't even shrug. He warily watched her stand up and watched her disappear into the kitchen, sighing to herself and running a weary hand through her hair. 

Vex was looking at Harper, trying to find any indication as to why Harper had lied, but didn't find a trace of anything. Sighing softly, he pushed himself up.

"Come on, kid. Let's get some ice on that face for you."

Staring at him blankly, Harper pushed himself up and followed him to the bathroom, still clutching his stomach with one hand.


	13. Chapter 13

The Diaries 

Chapter 13

Database Records Archive: 27 (10083)

Specific Time: During the next two weeks

Harper refused to admit to it. Beka asked him countless more times whenever Bobby was out of earshot, but Harper just quietly shook his head and whispered his, "No, m'm." until Beka threw up her hands in frusteration and left, or until she bit her lip, sighed softly and swore and turned away from him.

The situation wouldn't have been as bad if Bobby would have just left him alone. But he didn't. Everytime Mr.Jensen happened to be in a bad mood, or drunk, or both, he'd corner Harper and take it out on him. Always making sure Beka wasn't within hearing range, he'd relentlessly bear down on Harper, swearing at him, yelling at him and hitting him. The thing that bothered me most wasn't the fact that Bobby was unfairly bullying the one member of the crew who couldn't defend himself against him, and who wouldn't tell on him, but it was the irrationalities behind Bobby's beatings.

When Harper had borrowed Bobby's tool without asking him, or when he hadn't fixed the scanner fast enough, those could have been marginally justified. But the more current reasons Bobby lashed out at Harper were completely and utterly unjustified. Catching Harper looking out of my windshield and throwing him down the hallway or slamming the fridge door shut on his hand when he caught Harper getting a Sparky for himself, I found no fairness or justification behind Bobby's actions.

Not only was Harper smaller and weaker than Bobby, but Bobby had no reason and no right to do what he did. 

I never quite understood why Bobby went after Harper, but I suppose it makes a little, twisted sense. Bobby needed to take his anger at Beka's carelessness out on someone, and Harper was the only one who couldn't fight back properly and would keep his mouth shut about it. Harper was probably used to being beat up by people bigger and stronger than him, and he knew that telling on them would only make it worse on him.

The saddest part of it was, I do think that Bobby truly thought he had a right to hit Harper. Just because Harper was a mudfoot and was technically Beka's leased worker (I refuse to call him property or slave. My captain's habits have rubbed off on me), didn't mean that he was any different from Bobby. Bobby seemed to think that Harper was beneath him as a human being. That Harper was dumber and dirtier, and as a result, didn't have the right to breathe, eat and live the same way that Bobby did. 

This didn't occur to me back then, because back then I had refused to come to terms with the fact that anybody except for Nietzscheans could think of a fellow human being in this way. But, sadly, as I would later see, many people in this universe thought of Harper the same way Bobby did and didn't hide the fact that they thought he had no right to breathe the same air that they did.

Database Records Archive: 28 (10083)

Specific Time: Two weeks later

Beka jerked her head up when she heard Vex frantically calling her name. 

"What?" she called over her shoulder, her eyes not leaving the asteroid belt we were flying through.

"It's Bobby. He's in the kitchen with Harper." The sense of urgency and worry radiated from Vex's harmless sounding words.

Swearing under her breath, Beka turned on my auto-pilot, ripped off her seatbelt and leapt off the chair. Grabbing the railing, she hauled herself up the steps and ran down the corridor, red hair whipping around her worried face.

Hurry, hurry, hurry, I silently screamed at her. 

I'd been watching the scene in the kitchen with simmering rage and sick fear for the past ten minutes. At first, nobody had heard them. Bobby can punch damn quietly and hiss as quietly as a leaky pipe when he wants to, and Harper's yelps and winces of pain are even quieter.

The reason behind Bobby's attack is just as foggy and mind bendingly unjustifyable as the others had been.

Harper had been wandering around and had come to a stop beside the sink, staring at the way the clean glasses sparkled under the dim light in the kitchen. The glasses were still wet, since Vex had just washed them, and tiny droplets of water slid down them, shimmering in the light.

Harper had stood there, not touching them, but just staring, that small, content smile on his face. 

"Look, Maru," He'd whispered. "See how them glasses shimmer? Look like little stars."

Then he'd reached out and had lightly run a finger down the side of of a glass, trailing the path of a drop of sparkling water.

That was when Bobby had come in and all hell had broken loose.

Hissing in simmering rage that Harper had no right to touch any dishes which clean and decent people used for eating and drinking, he'd picked him up and thrown him against the counter. When Harper had tried to scramble out of the way, Bobby had growled quietly and grabbed him. Holding him pinned against the counter with one hand, he'd used his other hand to punch the hell out of him. Bone shattering blows rained down on Harper's face, arms and stomach, leaving him weezing and gasping for breath, with quiet whimpers of pain escaping his bleeding lips.

Finally when Bobby's hand had cramped up from holding the squirming, smaller human against the counter, he'd dropped him and then flexed his fingers and massaged his sore knuckles as he kicked Harper viciously in the side over and over again. 

Moaning from the force of the kicks, Harper had curled into a little ball, trying to ward off the kicks, until Bobby kicked him in the face. Letting out a yelp, Harper jerked his face back and was content with letting Bobby shatter his ribs to pieces. 

It was then that Vex poked his head into the kitchen. His eyes had widened when he saw Harper's crumbled, bleeding form lying on the ground, and Bobby standing above him, nearly looking bored as he methodically continued kicking him.

It was then that Vex bit his lip and frantically called for Beka. He knew he was no match for Bobby and would probably end up looking like Harper if he tried to interfere. His hands had gone down to his holster, but he swore quietly when he realized he didn't have his gun with him.

Half turning, he frantically waited for Beka to come. Beka was the only one who could get Bobby to stop and listen.

Harper must have heard Beka's approaching footsteps pounding on the metal floor, for he lifted up his bleeding, bruised face and looked at the doorway, a slight hint of relief on his face. Bobby didn't miss the look.

He immediately stopped what he was doing, spun around and ducked out the backdoor of the kitchen into the engine room, leaving Harper lying on the floor.

Seconds later, Beka ran into the kitchen, eyes wide, gasping for breath. Frantically, she looked all around, before her eyes landed on the moaning, shaking form lying huddled on the floor.

A swift hand flew up to her mouth and horror filled her eyes as she hurried around the table and crouched down beside Harper.

Speechless, she reached out a hand, but then quickly yanked it back when she saw Harper already jerking away from it, mistrust flooding his eyes.

"Oh, my god, Harper." She whispered softly, looking at the swelling on his face, the trickle of blood running down from his forehead and his mouth, and the redness spreading across his shirt from his bleeding side. His hands were tightly entwined in his shirt, warding off any attempts she might make to pull his shirt up to see.

Biting her lip, sadness and fury both fought for dominance on her face. Then, she shook her head and took control of the situation.

Quietly, she asked Harper to sit up slowly, and not to move himself too much. Staring at her with blank eyes, silently debating within himself whether to listen or not, a tiny voice inside of him whispered that he could trust her for now, and he pushed himself up on a shaking arm, the other hand tightly clutching his blood soaked shirt.

Vex came back into the kitchen—I had hardly noticed he'd left—and handed Beka the first aid kit.

Yanking it open, Beka pulled out a bottle of disinfectant and some cotton balls. Quickly pouring some of the clear liquid onto the white fluff, she was about to reach up and gently press it to the cut on Harper's forehead, but he jerked away from her, eyes widening.

"Don't touch." He painfully whispered from between clenched teeth.

Sighing in exasperation, Beka looked like she was about to say something, but then decided this wasn't the time. Nodding, she handed the cotton to Harper, telling him to hold it on the cut until she said. 

When he had held it there, she took it from him and gave him another one to put on the cut on his cheeks. Then she told him to open his mouth and let her see if any teeth were broken.

Squinting, she spied the small cut where one of his teeth had dug into his cheek, but the cut wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

Grabbing a napkin. She told him not to swallow the blood in his mouth, but to spit it out. Frowning at her, Harper obeyed. 

Meanwhile, Vex had grabbed a cooling pack and tossed it over to Harper, telling him to hold that on his jaw until the swelling had gone down.

Finally, Beka glanced down at the blood on his shirt.

"Alright, mister. Let me see those ribs."

Harper's wary gaze turned into a glare. "No."

"Harper, maybe you didn't hear me. I didn't give you a choice. Come on," she raised an eyebrow, looking as stern as she could in the given situation. "Let me see."

"No."

I sighed inwardly. Harper, Beka won't say anything about what you're hiding under that shirt. There's no need to be afraid. She won't be disgusted. Trust me. But, of course, he didn't hear me.

Beka stared at him for a long time, trying to break that unwavering stare of his, but not succeeding. Finally, she sighed and closed her eyes as she ran a bloody hand through her hair. I don't think she even noticed that she had Harper's blood all over herself.

"Fine." She said, looking down and handing Harper a wet rag soaked in water and disinfectant. "Put that on your side and check if there's anything broken. I mean it."

Harper took the rag and shifted slightly, tucking it underneath his shirt and grimacing as he pressed it to his bleeding, sore side.

As they sat there, he glanced at Beka. "Ain't nothing broken." He said. Beka nodded.

She looked around the kitchen, maybe trying to see what had caused Bobby to snap. Not finding anything out of the ordinary, she sighed and made herself more comfortable, sitting on the floor opposite of Harper and leaning against the leg of the table.

"Harper, what happened?"

A shrug.

Beka swore. "God damn it, Harper! I didn't ask for a shrug. I wanted a straight answer, and I'll get one, even if I have to stuff you into the boiler while I'm at it. What the hell happened? Did you say something to him? Did you touch his whisky? What?"

Harper shrugged again, then quickly glanced at her and swallowed. "I fell off a chair." He mumbled.

Beka clenched her jaw. "Harper, I'm sick and tired of the bullshit you've been stuffing down my throat for weeks now. I want the truth, and I want it now. What did you do to make Bobby snap like that?"

Not looking at her, Harper quietly traced the grating on the floor with the hand that wasn't clutching the rag to his side. "I was running too fast and I ran into the table by accident. Sorry."

Throwing up her hands, Beka let out a frusterated groan before clenching her fists and dropping them into her lap. "Oh, my god, Harper!" she cried, angry and frusterated now.

Leaning her head against the table leg, she glared at my ceiling, her jaw clenched and slammed a fist repeatedly against my floor.

Finally, the anger evaporated from her face and her jaw softened. She stopped staring at my ceiling and looked back down at Harper. Her shoulders slumped slightly and her fists uncurled. A look of confusion and sadness clouded her eyes.

"Harper, why are you doing this?" she asked softly.

He shifted uncomfortably, not looking at her, and not answering. Eyes darting all around, he looked like he was going to shrug, but then decided against it and just fidgeted about under Beka's patient, confused stare.

"Harper, why are you protecting him like this?"

Biting his lip, he shifted around until he finally mustered up the courage to answer her. Glancing at her and then quickly looking at the floor again, he shook his head.

"I ain't protecting him. I'm protecting you, m'm."

Beka raised an eyebrow and frowned. "Me?" she exclaimed. That wasn't the answer either of us had been expecting. "Why me? Bobby hasn't done anything to you."

Another quiet shift and uncomfortable glance around. Then he whispered an answer so quietly that Beka had to lean forward to catch it. 

"He ain't done nothing 'cept love you, captain."

Database Records Archive: 29 (10083)

Specific Time: That night

My captain paced around her quarters, running a confused hand through her hair, scowling and muttering to herself.

Vex was leaning against her doorframe, twisting a stray wire around in his hands, from time to time glancing up to see when Beka would cease her pacing and muttering.

Finally, she threw up her hands and turned to Vex.

"Vex, I don't get it." She declared. Letting her hands drop to her sides, she stared at him, obviously waiting for Vex to help her.

He raised an eyebrow. "Rebecca, darling, this old brain of mine can't keep up with your lighting fast thoughts. You have to slow down a little. What don't you get, honey?" 

Beka scowled at him and waved a hand around. "The thing that the beast said to me this morning. The thing about Bobby loving me and the beast protecting me, and not himself. What the hell kind of moronic thing is that to say? Why would he say that?"

Vex stared at her for a minute and crossed his arms. A tiny amused smile tugged on the corner of his lips. "You really don't understand?"

She scowled. "Would I be asking if I did?"

Vex sighed and dropped his arms. "Rebecca, although Harper doesn't appear to be the kind of person who understands these things, he is a good deal smarter than you think."

Beka snorted. Ignoring her, Vex continued.

"He wants to protect your love for Bobby."

Beka stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Rebecca, just think about it. He knows you love Bobby and he knows that you don't love very many people. He is simply trying to preserve that love, because he doesn't want to hurt you."

Vex spoke quietly and patiently, as if explaining something to a child. Beka crossed her arms and bit her lip as she mulled over what he was saying. Frowning, she something suddenly occurred to her.

"How does lying about Bobby hitting him do anything?"

Vex sighed. My captain can be so incredibly narrow minded when she is worried over something. 

"Rebecca, I'll put it rather bluntly. Harper thinks that by lying he is keeping you from accepting the fact that Bobby is not only a bad-tempered alcoholic, but is also abusive."

"How does that—"

Vex held up a hand, silencing her. "Beka, would you love an abusive Bobby the same way you love a bad-tempered Bobby?"

Beka opened her mouth to answer, but then thought it over and abruptly closed her mouth. She stared at Vex, understanding filtering into her eyes.

Slowly, she lowered her gaze.

Vex stepped closer to her and gently looked down at her. "Beka, you've been in abusive relationships before. You know what they turn into. You know the fear and hurt that lie laced within them. And you know that love becomes something painful. Harper knows that too. He's afraid that if he admits to Bobby hitting him, that you'll have to face the fact that the man you love is an abusive asshole—pardon the language—and you won't be able to love him the same way you do now. Harper knows how much Bobby means to you and he doesn't want to hurt you."

Beka stared at the floor, eyes distant as she thought over what Vex had said. Finally, she bit her lip and sighed. Glancing up at Vex, she gave him a sad smile.

"Well, Vex, I'm afraid I'm already hurt. When someone hurts my crew, they hurt me. And Harper's more than crew. He's my responsibility, and I won't stand to see someone hurt him, even if it's someone I love." She whispered.

Stepping past him, she slowly walked out of the room, clenching her jaw from the effort of holding back tears.

Database Records Archive: 30 (10083)

Specific Time: Two days later

As soon as I saw Bobby grumbling and stumbling down the corridor, as drunk as a Winnipeg Drift Nightsider, I knew it wasn't going to be a good day. I just hoped Harper stayed out of his way today.

I was docked in a rundown station on Nuzenga, waiting for some delivery kids to pack my cargo hold full of junk which we were going to deliver to Infinity. Some rich businessman wanted to spend a year on Infinity, frolicking around on the beaches, and wanted to take his entire home with him, but couldn't fit it all into his glider, so he contacted us and asked Beka to come and help him. I can now officially add 'moving van' to my title. That, along with a dozen other titles. Hey, whatever pays the bills is good enough for me.

Beka had been pacing around my cargo hold, making sure none of the guys dropped any of the heavy crates they were lugging around—it had happened in the past that someone's stuff had broken and my captain had not only been blamed for it, but had been forced to pay for the damages. When everything was packed in, the guys scampered off to find the businessman to collect their payment. Beka yelled after them to tell the guy she expected half the payment by seventeen hundred hours and she wasn't leaving before she got it.

Glancing around my cargo hold one more time and making sure none of the crates would fall over as soon as she turned around, she let a satisfied grin cross her face. Humming an old rock 'n roll song to herself, she went and leapt onto the ladder and slid down, landing with a thump on the floor.

Dusting off her hands, she started off towards the kitchen.

While she was slowly meandering along, humming to herself, I was screaming at her, my database churning up the vilest words I could think of for the person who didn't give me an AI.

At that exact same moment, Bobby was busy trying to break Harper's arm in half in the crew quarters. 

Harper was backed up against the wall in his corner, blood pouring from his nose and his eye nearly swollen shut. He was weezing and gagging from the bone shattering blows Bobby had thrown into his guts, and he was desperately trying to wrestle out of the stronger man's grasp. Bobby had Harper's arm in one hand and was slowly twisting it around, ignoring Harper's whimpers of pain. 

Bobby was looming over him, his face inches away from Harper's. Both of their eyes were glowing strangely, Harper's from pain and fear, and Bobby's from alcohol and fury.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, freak, huh? You think you can just stare around at everybody, making their skin crawl and scare the shit out of them? Huh? You think you can just sit here and stare? You ain't got no right to stare, you got that? No right." He hissed, his voice shaking.

Harper didn't answer him and bit his lip, trying to suppress a yelp as Bobby twisted his arm some more.

I was fuming and frantic. One part of me was raging over the fact that this was completely uncalled for. I mean, you don't hit a person because they're looking at you. You just don't do that. Another part of me was frantically screaming at my captain to stop her incessant humming and to walk faster and help Harper, because if Bobby turned his arm three more centimeters, he'd snap it in half.

Beka slowly dragged her feet along the corridor, not paying attention to anything. She would have passed right by the crew quarters, if Harper hadn't whimpered at that exact moment.

Beka froze, her humming dying in her throat. Frowning, she slowly turned and walked backwards until she was at the doorway of the crew quarters. 

As soon as she saw what was happening, her jaw slightly dropped open and her face paled. Eyes widening, she stepped into the room.

"Bobby! What the hell are you doing?" she cried.

Bobby didn't tear his eyes off of Harper's. "Teaching the filth a lesson. It ain't polite to stare. I'm reinforcing that." He muttered over his shoulder.

"You're _what_?" she cried, disbelief and anger both entwined in her words.

"You deaf or something? I said I'm teaching the freak a lesson." He yelled over his shoulder at her, his patience gone.

Hurry, hurry, hurry, captain, I screamed at her. Two more centimeters and Harper would have a broken arm.

As Beka got closer, she suddenly realized with a sickening lurch what Bobby was in the process of doing.

"Bobby! Let go of him! Now! You're breaking his arm!" 

He let out a hollow laugh. "My, ain't we perceptive today? Yes, I am in the middle of breaking his arm. The filth doesn't listen to anything except for pain. Now, I've explained myself, you've made a scene, now be a good girl and leave us alone." He tightened his grip on Harper's arm, eyes boring into pained, blue ones. "We're busy." He snarled.

Beka lost her patience. "Bobby, I mean it! Let go of him! Stop this crap!"

When Bobby didn't answer, Beka clenched her fists, sparks of anger snapping within her eyes. Taking two steps forward, she reached out to yank his arm away from Harper.

Afterwards, I was never sure if Bobby did what he did next intentionally or not. 

All I know is that alcohol might impair his judgement and his rationality, but not his reflexes.

As soon as Beka grabbed his arm to pull him away from Harper, Bobby let go of Harper—leaving his dangling above the ground, being held by his twisted arm—and reached behind himself and grabbed Beka's arm. Half turning around, Bobby clenched his jaw and glared down at Beka for a split second before throwing her against Vex's bunk bed.

Either Bobby threw her damn hard, or she tripped over her own legs—I couldn't tell—but either way, my captain slammed so hard into the sharp metal posts of the bunk bed that she reeled back and collapsed onto the floor.

She didn't move as she lay there in a crumbled heap. 

I quickly ran a scan on her and only calmed down when the readings came back to say she was a little winded and there was a bruise forming on her arm and her side where the post had hit her, but other than that, she was fine. But nobody could tell that from her still, unmoving form.

Harper's eyes widened when he saw Beka, and he momentarily seemed to forget about his arm. Bobby followed Harper's gaze, and when he saw her still form lying on the ground, that tiny bit of common sense he still had seeped back into him. 

Letting go of Harper's arm—who then fell in a boneless heap onto the floor, rubbing his sore, bruised arm and wiping his bloody nose in his shirt—Bobby stumbled over to Beka. Crouching down beside her, he reached out and lightly shook her. 

"Beka? Baby? You alright?" he whispered, tears choking his words. Whether he was crying from regret or an alcoholic haze, I neither knew nor cared about.

I was seething. Don't you dare touch my captain, you—you—I couldn't think of a polite enough word so I gave up. Besides, swearing too much shorts out my AG generator.

Beka slowly turned her head, which had lain cradled in her arms against the floor, and stared blankly in front of her. Thinking that the small movement meant she was okay, Bobby gently pulled her up until she was sitting against the bed, his hands clumsy and shaking.

"Baby? Honey? Speak to me. Please." Bobby pleaded, tears running down his face.

Beka stared blankly in front of herself, not seeing Bobby, not hearing his words. Either she was in shock, or she was thinking. 

The silence in the room seemed to stretch on forever as Beka sat there, completely numb and pale, staring at nothing.

Finally, she turned her head and stared at Bobby, her eyes flooding with sadness and determination.

"Get out." She whispered, her voice sounding as dead and empty as she looked.

Bobby blinked at her, tears still roaming down his face. He stared at her blankly, not understanding, the drunk haze in his mind not letting him register her words.

When he didn't answer, but only stared at her in confusion, Beka slightly clenched her jaw, tears filling her eyes.

"Are you so damn drunk that you've gone deaf, Bobby? I said, get out." She whispered harshly, her voice shaking slightly.

Bobby gaped at her, before finally finding his voice. He gave her a thin, wavering smile. "Baby, you don't mean that. You're just in shock." When she didn't reply, only stared at him with tear filled, determined eyes, he licked his lips nervously. "Listen, Beka. I'm really sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I wasn't thinking too clearly. Please, Beka, we can work through this. Please." When she still didn't say anything, he started sobbing harder. "Beka, please. Don't throw me out like this. I love you."

Beka gave him a hollow, bitter laugh as tears started pouring down her face. "You sure have a nice way of showing it."

"Baby, please. I ain't thinking so clearly right now. I've been drinking too much. But you have to understand, I did it for you. All of it." He whispered, his lips shaking with still unspent tears. "I love you, Beka, and I couldn't stand to see you hurting yourself like that. Running head first into things you couldn't deal with, like the runs, and taking on the freak. It's too much for you."

Beka's jaw clenched again and anger sparked in her tear filled eyes. "You see, Bobby, that's where we run into problems. You don't own me. You can't tell me what I can and can't do. You can't tell me who I make a part of my crew and who I don't." Despite the fact that tears were streaming down her face, her voice was strong and determined. Swallowing hard, she looked away from him and pulled herself up, yanking her arm away when he tried to help her up. Bobby stood up with her and stepped backwards slightly, looking at her with a drunk, pleading look in his eyes.

When she was standing, she forced her hands to stop trembling and held her head up and stared at Bobby, her face pale from anger and regret.

"Now, get out." She whispered, her voice leaving no room for any arguments.

Bobby gaped at her, still not believing it.

"Beka, you can't be serious. You can't let the freak stay and throw me out. He ain't got any right to be on this ship. I do."

Anger simmered in her tear flooded eyes and she regained her strength from her fury. Losing all of her patience and leaving behind her numb shock, she screamed at him.

"Nobody is born with a right to be on this ship! This is my ship and I give the right to anybody who stays on it! And now, I'm taking away that right from you. I want you off my ship, now! I mean it!" she screamed. 

In the stunned silence that followed her outburst, Bobby only shifted around in front of her, still too drunk and shocked to respond.

She started shaking from pent up anger and grief. Pointing a shaking hand at the door, she glared up at him. I had never seen my captain this angry before.

"Get out!" she screamed, sobbing now, tears streaming down her face. "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

Realizing she was serious, Bobby slowly backed away from her and stumbled over to the door. Not taking his confused, pained eyes off of her, he stepped out of the room. He slowly dragged himself down the corridor, reeling off of walls and falling over doorframes until he reached airlock. Punching it open with a shaking hand, he fell out into the docking station.

Dazed, he stared around himself, still shaking and crying, and slowly made his way through the crowd of people, not knowing where he was or where he was going.

I slammed my airlock shut behind him. I was never going to let Bobby Jensen through those doors ever again, even if I had to hurl myself into a sun to keep him away.

Meanwhile, my captain's anger had faded, and she dropped her shaking arm and had crumbled onto the floor. Kneeling on the floor, she hugged herself, rocking back and forth, crying bitterly while still muttering over and over again: "Get out. Get out. Get out."


	14. Chapter 14

The Diaries Chapter 14 

Author's Note: Thanks for all the awesome reviews, guys!! Fanficaddict, Parisindy, Lauriena, and all you people out there, you're the best.  I was worried about how you guys would like the last part, but I was reassured and sat down last night and wrote another chapter just for you guys. I should warn you that the junk I'm meandering on about for the next two or three chapters (no, parisindy, I haven't written them yet. I know, I apologize.) won't be connected as well as the Bobby stuff was connected but will just be random little glimpses of the remainder of the year. That's right. It's almost time to say happy new year and welcome the year 10084. You know, I just realized how long this story could get. Oops. I apologize. Now I am off to finish chapter 15 (Okay, parisindy, so I lied) and to beta two stories. What was that you asked? Do I have a social life? Hmm, let me think about this one. Uhm...no. (Raven now stops typing and tries to see when she became a hermit. Chapter 15 might take longer than she originally thought). ; )

Database Records Archive: 31

Specific Time: Three days later, in the middle of the night

There are three things wrong about tonight. First of all, it's in the middle of the night and my captain's bed is empty. Second, one of Bobby's old whisky bottles is gone from the shelf in the kitchen. Third, the light in the storage closet is turned on, a faint shaft of it creeping out from underneath the door.

Beka hadn't slept a lot in the past three nights. She'd cried herself to sleep on the first two nights and woken up at random times in the middle of the night, sometimes calling out for Bobby, sometimes sobbing, and sometimes swearing. It would always take her a couple of hours until she calmed down enough to go back to sleep, only to be torn awake a few hours later.

It seems that tonight, she had completely given up on sleep. Having woken up half an hour ago, crying quietly and shaking, she'd hugged herself and leaned against the wall. When she had calmed down, she'd wiped the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand and wrapped her blanket around herself and stood up. Keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around herself, she padded across the floor in her barefeet and crept to the kitchen. Grabbing one of Bobby's bottles, she'd pulled the blanket over her shoulders and shuffled to the storage closet. Turning on the light, she'd shut the door quietly, trying not to wake her crew. Then she'd sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall beside the shelves of linen on which Harper had climbed a month or so ago.

Sighing, she'd pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, the blanket folded around her like a protective cocoon. She stared at the wall in front of her, her mind miles away, the unopened bottle standing on the floor beside her.

There was another person who was awake. He was sitting cross legged in my piloting chair, staring at stars and asteroid belts, pointing them out for me while I stared at them and analyzed them for him and tried to understand what was so special about them.

He'd heard Beka crying softly almost before I did. His head jerked around and he leaned over the arm of the piloting chair, staring down the corridor. His face was blank, but I swear there was a hint of sadness in those blue eyes.

When he heard Beka getting up and shuffling towards the door, he'd pulled his head back and curled into a tiny ball. I wanted to reassure him that my captain's thoughts were far away from checking the piloting chair to check for insomniac crew members, and that there was no need for him to be paranoid.

He tensely sat there, biting his lip, and staring at the stars outside my windshield as he listened to Beka padding down the hall, sniffing from time to time and then going into the storage closet. 

For a while, there was a complete silence onboard myself, the only real sound coming from the hum of my engines and the usual hiss of that damn leaky pipe, which I keep forgetting to put into damage reports so Harper or Vex can fix it.

In the storage closet, Beka was staring off, lost in thought, her knees hugged up to her chest with a blanket tugged around herself. In the cockpit, Harper was staring out into space, his legs cross legged, eyes staring at distant stars and slowly spinning planets.

When the sound of Beka's quiet crying carried over to the cockpit, Harper bit his lip and he stared at the ground, unsure of whether to leave her alone or go and say something to her. As he sat there, torn between going or staying, I silently urged him to go. 

Come on, Harper. She won't be mad about you staying up, and she could really use a friend. Yes, I know that the two of you aren't really tight friends just yet, but at least this will be a start. Besides, you owe her one. You have to admit that.

As if hearing my mental coaxing, Harper sighed and pushed himself up. Slowly creeping down the corridor in his barefeet,—his shoes were standing beside the mattress, as usual—he stopped when he was in front of the storage closet. He stood there, shifting uncertainly. He lifted up his hand a couple of times as if he wanted to knock on the door—something Beka had taught him the other day when he'd barged in on Vex in the bathroom while the latter was having a shower. Finally, he mustered up his courage and quietly knocked on the door and then waited. 

Beka abruptly stopped crying and sniffed, muttering that Vex should go back to sleep and leave her alone.

Biting his lip, Harper was about to turn around and go, but something stopped him. 

He quietly pushed the door open a bit and stood there. The flood of light spread across the floor and Beka squinted through blood shot eyes at the figure standing there, bathed in half light and half darkness.

"What are you doing up at this time of night?" she asked, sniffing and wiping a tear off her cheek.

Harper shrugged. "I don't sleep."

Beka gave him a sad, strained smile. "I see." Neither of them said anything and Harper was just starting to fidget under Beka's unwavering stare when my captain smiled.

"You see what if feels like to have someone staring at you? Anyway, don't just stand there. Come here and close the door. The light'll wake Vex."

Creeping into the cramped space, Harper shut the door behind him and quietly sat down beside Beka. Although he crammed himself into the corner, the space was so small that their shoulders were nearly touching. Realizing what Harper's problem was, Beka shifted over slightly until she was sitting in the corner between the wall and the shelves.

Harper sat cross legged and quietly stared off into space, joining Beka in the world of lost thoughts.

After a while, Beka glanced down at Harper's feet. She gave him a rueful smile. "Where the hell did you put your boots, beast?"

Harper squirmed slightly and curled his toes a little. He gave her a tiny smile. "They's sitting beside the mattress. Hey, least I wears 'em during the day. You never says nothing about wearing them at night." He glanced down at her bare feet which were poking out from beneath the folds of the blanket. "Besides, you ain't wearing no shoes neither."

Beka rolled her eyes and laughed quietly through another flood of tears which threatened to spill.

Blinking hard and forcing them back, she pulled her blanket off herself and tugged half of it around her own bare feet. Then she threw the other half at Harper. He stared at her.

She scowled. "Put the damn thing over your feet. We'll both catch colds sitting on the floor like this with bare feet."

Obediently, Harper tugged the blanket around his feet, smiling quietly at the softness.

"It feels just like socks." He mumbled.

Beka smiled and leaned back against the wall, her hands in her lap. 

Harper leaned back too, the tension and wariness slowly draining out of him. His gaze landed on the untouched bottle of whisky standing between him and Beka. 

He glanced at her. "You know that hard liquor ain't good for ya if you ain't used to it." He said, knowing that Beka never drank.

Beka frowned. "What liquor?"

Harper pointed at the whisky.

"Oh, that." She waved a hand at it. "I'm not touching that crap. I've changed my mind. You can have it if you want."

Leaning over, Harper took the bottle and twisted off the cap. Taking a few swigs, he grinned at Beka.

"I've had worse."

"Yeah, I'll bet." She muttered, shaking her head at him.

Then they lapsed into silence again. Harper sat there, drinking the whisky, his legs crossed beneath the blanket, the bottle resting in his lap. Beka had her knees pulled up to her chest and had her arms wrapped around them and was staring at the wall in front of her, lost in her own thoughts and memories again. 

After countless of silent minutes had come and gone, Beka's thoughts must have wandered back to Bobby—if they had ever left. I watched her face crumble as unseen memories flashed by her. The good times, the bad times, the loving times, the fighting times, and the tender times. 

Fresh tears brimmed her eyelids and she bit her lip and leaned her head against the wall. She closed her eyes as some tears snuck out from under her eyelid and ran down her face. Opening her eyes, she realized it was useless trying to hold them back, and soon the tears were streaming down her face. With a sob, she leaned forward and buried her face into her knees, drenching the blanket covering her legs with her tears. She cried quietly, her shoulders shaking as her arms hugged her legs, afraid that if she let them go, she'd fly apart.

Harper quietly sat there, sipping the whisky and watching her, concern and sadness clouding his eyes. I think that was the first time I had ever seen him with those emotions in his eyes in the few weeks I'd known him.

As Beka kept on crying, he bit his lip and looked like he wanted to say something to her, but being Harper, he couldn't think of anything. He has never been good at talking to people about emotional things. Back then, he covered it up with silence. These days, he covers it up by relentlessly yakking and blabbing on about absolutely nothing.

While he watched her, he seemed to be debating something within himself. Putting the bottle down, he reached out a timid hand and was about to touch Beka's shoulder when courage deserted him and he yanked his hand back, pulling it back into his lap.

Glancing at Beka's shaking, sobbing form again, he decided to give it another shot. Reaching out, he gently touched her back. He must have half expected her to jerk away, but when she didn't do anything, he grew braver and gently stroked her back. 

Beka kept on crying as he lightly comforted her the only way he knew how. Finally, Beka turned her tear streaked face towards him, resting the side of her face on her knees and stared at him. 

"I loved him, you know." She whispered, sobbing.

He nodded, sadness in his eyes. "I know." He whispered, still stroking her back.

Beka nodded, as if it had been very important that Harper knew she loved Bobby. When she heard Harper's answer, something within her seemed relieved somehow.

She stared at the door beside Harper, biting her lip to keep from crying.

Harper looked at her. "You can keep on crying, captain, if you want to. It'll help you. Besides, you don't gotta worry about watching the door. I'll keep a look out for you."

Beka stared at him for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face, before she turned her face into her knees again and surrendered to another flood of painfilled tears.

As Beka would later admit to me, the best person to have beside you when you're crying over a break up with the love of you life isn't someone who knows you better than anyone, such as Vex, but is someone who understands you better than anyone without you having to say a word, such as Harper.

As Beka and I would later learn, Harper was one of the rare people in the universe who always understood everybody without them having to say a word, no matter who they were or what had happened to them. And even if Harper couldn't help them with words, he'd always sit by their side, watching out for them and giving them sad smiles until they felt ready to face the world again. 

Database Records Archive: 32 (10083)

Specific Time: A month later

This morning, my captain had woken up with a brighter smile than she had worn for the past month. Grinning, she'd thrown her covers off and padded into the kitchen, still bare foot and wearing her pajamas. On the way, she shook her head, activating that nanobots in her hair and turned her hair into a brilliant sky blue.

I stared and my environmental controls dipped a little as I wondered if my captain had completely lost it.

Still smiling, she marched into the kitchen.

"Good morning, everyone." She sang out.

"Good morning, Rebecca." Vex muttered and half turned from the stove with a plateful of omelets balanced in the crook of his arm.

The second he saw Beka, his eyes widened, his eyebrows shot up and he nearly dropped the plate.

Moments later, Harper walked in behind Beka. He had nearly walked past her by the time he saw the hair. Eyes widening, he leapt to the side as if she was a monster and not his captain. Cowering beside the counter, Harper gaped at her.

"What—what happened to your hair, captain?"

Beka grinned and rolled her eyes. "First off all, don't call me captain, call me boss, it's a lot less formal, and second of all, I've decided it's time for a change."

Silence greeted this as we all struggled to find something to say. Finally Vex broke the stunned silence.

"A—a change, my dear?"

Beka grinned. "Yes. A change." With that, she shook her head again and her hair turned neon orange. 

Harper nearly leapt onto the counter. "How the hell did you do that?" he breathed, panic and amazement both evident in his voice.

Beka smiled. "Relax, shorty. It's nanobots. My dad gave them to me when I was little. I can turn my hair any color I want."

Harper gaped at her. "Any color?"

"Yup." Shaking her head again, her hair turned into a deep purple.

Vex smiled briefly at Harper's amazement as he put the omelets on the table, but then frowned at Beka and put his hands on his hips.

"Rebecca, I still don't understand. Why on earth do you have to change your hair color today? I thought you liked the red, and besides, why today? Why not tomorrow or next year?"

Beka smiled smugly, as if she knew something neither of the other two knew.

"Because last night was the second night in a row which I have slept through without crying and being heart broken, and today is the third day in a row on which I've woken up and not thought about Bobby. So, I've decided that I needed to move on with my life and get rid of all the little things that remind me of Bobby."

Vex raised his eyebrow, an amused smile on his lips. "Don't tell me. You're going to mortage the Maru."

Beka scowled. "Yeah, that was a good one, Vex. Real brilliant. No. That's not what I meant. I want to have little changes take place which will let me move on with my life. First of all, we're dumping all of that god damned whisky out—" she scowled when she saw Harper about to launch a protest. "—and we can get vodka or something else for our short alcoholic here, although I've told you a million times, Harper, that Sparky's are healthier in the long run than alcohol, but never mind. Also, I'm going to throw all of his clothes and junk into the boiler, and lastly, I'm changing my hair color."

I didn't quite understand what her hair color had to do with anything, but I let it go. Trying to analyse all of my crew's strange and sometimes unexplainable behavior takes up a lot of my processors time and energy. Andromeda fully agrees with me.

Beka smiled at them and collapsed into a chair. Digging into the omelet, she pointed a fork at both Vex and Harper, the latter of which was still standing warily beside the counter, unsure of Beka's hair. 

"I have to meet Mr.Danium in two hours about that next run and I want to have a new hair color picked before then, so you two have to help me decide." She mumbled out of a full mouth.

Harper's face brightened. "Oh, can you do fire red? I knew a guy who used to have that color hair."

Smiling and shaking her head, Beka was rewarded by a little laugh as Harper's eyes sparkled with amazement when he saw her bright red hair.

Vex was frowning at her. He slowly shook his head. "Now, Beka, my dear, you can't do any crazy colors or combinations. None of that orange and green striped disaster you had in your teens, and you can't go around with white and black hair with purple tips again either. It frightens away clients."

Beka pretended to glare at him while putting another forkful of omelet into her mouth.

"Frightens away clients, my ass." She muttered, but then nodded. "Alright, fine. No crazy combos and no bright colors. Got it. So, that leaves us with my old hair color—which is out—and then we have jet black, shades of brown, and shades of blond." She glanced at Harper. "You pick."

Harper raised both eyebrows. "Me?"

Beka nodded, her mouth too full to answer. Harper leaned back and stared at her for a moment, thinking it over, until he finally got it.

"Well, them dark colors ain't suit you too well, so how 'bout blond?" He frowned and added an afterthought. "But none of that dirty blond. I'm talking the nice, pure blond."

"Platinum?"

He blinked. "Sure. Whatever."

She nodded. "Then platinum blond it is." Chewing, she shook her hair and the bright red strands turned into the shining blond locks which my captain still has today.

Grinning, Beka waved them both over with her fork. "Alright, now that we have that out of the way, sit down and stuff your faces. I have to meet Danium and then you two have to help haul crates into the hold. Apparently Danium's stupid delivery boys are too hung over to help. I just talked to him this morning."

Still staring at their captain's new hair blond hair, Harper and Vex sat down and dug into their breakfast, occasionally sneaking glances at the new blond strands.

Database Records Archive: 33 (10083)

Specific Time: Five days later, in the middle of the night

I was quietly emptying out last days mail files, deleting junk mail and storing business proposals and personal letters into their respective files. Meanwhile, Harper had just pulled off his boots and had crept into my kitchen.

Hoping onto the counter, he set to work silently rummaging around in the cupboards. He found a can of baby carrots and grinned as he leapt off the counter, landing soundlessly on the floor. Grabbing a knife, he cut the can open—the concept of using a can opener was something Beka has yet to explain—and grabbed a fork. Setting his midnight snack onto the table, he quietly opened the fridge to take out a Sparky.

I was hardly paying any attention to all this. I was so used to it that I knew what Harper was doing without having to divert most of my attention on him. 

I knew that he was looking around in the fridge, his pale face bathed in the dim light being thrown across the floor from the fridge. Pushing aside platefuls of leftovers, he looked like he was going to grab a piece of leftover lasagna, but then decided against it and I knew he was about to grab a Sparky.

Just as his hands closed around the cold metal can, my damn engine coolants kicked in. With a loud whirring sound, the propellers and various cooling devices turned on. Normally, the sounds don't sound so out of place, but in the silence of the night, combined with Harper's usual quiet-as-a-mouse routine, the noise sounded like my engine exploding.

Harper's eyes widened, his face paled and he spun around, crouching low with a hand going down to where he keeps his knife hidden. As he had jerked around with a quick, terrified intake of breath, his hand had knocked over the Sparky can.

With a loud crash, the Sparky fell out of the fridge and landed on my metal floor. It rolled around on the grating, clattering almost louder than my engines.

Harper jumped away from the fridge as soon as he heard the noise and he backed up against the sink, probably thinking there was some hidden monster in the fridge.

Breathing hard, he stared around, eyes darting from my walls—from which the cooling devices noises were coming—to the open fridge and then down to the floor, where the rolling can had finally hit the table and come to a stop.

That was when Beka woke up. She'd slightly stirred when my damn cooling things kicked in, but she was used to the sound and didn't wake up. However, the sound of a full can of soda falling from the top shelf in the fridge was a sound she wasn't used to.

Eyes flying open, she didn't move, waiting to hear another sound. I knew what she was thinking. Whoever was in the kitchen was probably a thief, and thieves tended to care very little about who they killed while they stole things, and who they left alive. 

Immediately, one of her arms snaked up and pulled out the gun she has hidden between her mattress and the wall. Keeping it under the pillow was too predictable, and besides, Beka always said it was very uncomfortable to sleep on a gun.

Clutching it tightly in her hand, she threw the covers off herself and silently crept towards her door. Poking her head out, she glanced up and down the corridor. Finding it empty, she absentmindly brushed a strand of blond hair out of her eyes and forced her tired eyes to pay attention. The gun was rock steady in her hands as she padded bare foot down the corridor towards the kitchen, dressed only in her boxers and a wrinkled shirt which Vex had given her.

There was a quiet whine as Beka turned the safety off on her gun. 

Tip toeing now, face pale and eyes constantly darting all around, she hardly remembered to breath as she reached the kitchen, ready to sell her life dearly to protect her ship and her crew.

When she paused a split second before she reached the kitchen, I took the time to mentally apologize for the fact that I couldn't tell her that the intruder was just Harper, who was just as terrified as she was. Please don't blame me, captain. I don't have an AI. 

With a jump, she leapt into the kitchen, gun pointing straight at the figure crouching against the sink, both of her arms steady, her tired eyes glaring directly in front of her.

Harper's eyes widened even more when he saw her and he jerked back, before immediately hitting the floor and crawling underneath the table, clutching his knife. Judging from the darkness, my captain's poor night time vision and Harper's lightening fast reflexes, I guessed that Beka hadn't recognized the intruder yet.

It took Beka a second to register he had gone. Swearing, she slowly crouched down, not letting herself relax and not taking her eyes off of the huddled figure beneath the table.

When she had a clear shot, she put her hand on the trigger, about to shot.

A split second before she pulled the trigger, a sharp object suddenly wizzed past her ear. Instinctively, she yanked her head to the side, but the knife had been thrown with such deadly accuracy, that she could hear the whistling of the air around it and feel the knife slightly grazing her shoulder.

The knife hit the wall behind her and fell to the floor with a clatter. Beka risked a glance at the knife. It was Vex's vegetable chopping knife. 

"Oh, my god. Harper!" she cried out in a frusterated whisper, tension draining out of her as annoyance set it. She let herself fall backwards until she was leaning against the wall. The gun fell into her lap, taking her tired hands with it. She quietly glared at the person huddled underneath the table.

Running a shaking hand through her hair, she cursed as she realized how close she had come to shooting a member of her own crew.

She scowled. "Damn you, Harper! What the hell are you doing? Throwing crap around in the middle of the night on my ship? I could have shot you just now!" She shook her head as she glared. "Damned idiot." She muttered quietly between clenched teeth.

Harper crouched there, staring at her warily. "I'm sorry, boss. I ain't meant to frighten you." He whispered, obviously thinking she was mad at him.

Beka drew in a shaky breath, unspent adrenaline draining from her. She gave Harper a small smile as her eyes softened. "Relax, shorty. I'm not mad at you. I'm just damn scared because I was just inches away from shooting you. You idiot! What the hell are you doing up at this time of night, raiding my fridge?"

"I don't sleep." He mumbled, tracing the grating of the floor with a finger. 

Beka swore. "Yeah, we covered that already." She rolled her eyes. "Why I even bother asking is beyond me." She scowled at him. "Now get out from under that table and come over here and get your knife back. Then close my damn fridge and we're going back to bed like normal, decent people do."

Not needing to be told twice, Harper scampered out from underneath the table, put the Sparky can back into the fridge and quietly shut the door. 

Then he went over to Beka, who handed him his knife as she pushed herself off the floor. Together, they walked down the corridor as Harper walked two paces behind her, tugging his knife into his pant leg, and Beka tugged her gun into her boxers.

Yawning, Beka walked into the crew quarters, trying not to wake Vex. It was amazing what a deep sleeper the man was. Throughout all of this commotion, he hadn't woken up once.

They walked over to Harper's mattress in the corner and Beka ran a tired hand through her hair, whispering for Harper to get his ass onto the mattress already and go to sleep.

Harper stood beside her, shifting uncomfortably, staring down at the mattress uncertainly.

Finally, he took a step back and shook his head.

Beka closed her eyes and looked like she was going to explode, but then reined in her frusteration and her temper and glared down at Harper.

"Why?" she whispered harshly.

Harper shrugged.

Beka put her hands on her hips and raised a threatening eyebrow. "You give me that damn shrug one more time and I'll tie you up and throw you into the fridge, got it? Now, what the hell is wrong with the damn mattress?"

Harper didn't meet her glaring stare. "It's clean." He whispered. 

Beka sighed. Her anger faded away as a soft sadness flooded her eyes. "Harper, we've been over this. It's your mattress and you can sleep on it anytime you want."

Harper didn't answer, just continued staring at the floor, avoiding even looking at the clean, white mattress.

Beka bit her lip and dropped her arms as she looked down at him, probably trying to think of a way of finally putting out Harper's paranoia over getting things dirty.

Finally, she decided that talking wouldn't do anything—besides, neither of them are really good at the talking stuff anyway—and without a warning, she reached out and gently touched Harper's cheek.

Harper reacted as if Beka had burned him.

Leaping backwards, his eyes widened and he backed up against the far wall of the room, breaths coming in gasps as he stared at her.

"Don't touch." He hissed at her, his voice in a harsh whisper. He cowered against the wall, looking like he was about to reach down and grab his knife.

Beka didn't move, only softly stared at him from where she stood. Holding up the hand with which she had touched him, she showed it to him.

Ignoring his terrified eyes and the slight shaking, she looked him straight in the eye and didn't move her hand as she showed it to him.

"Harper, look at my hand." She said softly.

Looking at the hand was the last thing his frantic, paranoid mind was letting him do. His wary gaze darted around everywhere, his hand still looking ready to reach down and grab his knife.

Beka didn't move. "Harper, listen to me. I'm not going to come near you again, okay? You can relax. All I want you to do is look at my hand." She tried to catch his roaming eyes. "Look at my hand, shorty. Come on." She coaxed in a quiet whisper.

When Harper finally seemed convinced that Beka wouldn't come near him anymore—or he figured that he would have enough time to grab his knife if she made a single move towards him—but either way, he calmed down slightly.

The tension drained out of him and the color seeped back into his face. He swallowed hard, before looking through the darkness that seperated them towards her outstretched hand.

He stared at it before he frowned at her. He shifted around, obviously not understanding.

"What's so damn special 'bout your hand?"

Beka gave him one of her rare half smiles. "It's clean. That's what's special about it."

Harper blinked, still not understanding, or not letting himself understand. 

"Harper, if I touched you and my hand didn't get dirty, do you really think that if you sleep on a mattress that it'll get dirty too? I don't think so."

Harper stared at her, his expression unreadable. Finally, he slightly shook his head.

"It ain't the outside that's dirty. It's the inside."

Beka frowned for a minute, not understanding. My captain might be slow on the uptake sometimes, but she always gets it after a while.

"The inside?" she gave a little laugh, realizing what Harper's problem was. When Harper frowned over her laughter, she stopped laughing and put on a straight face.

"Harper, the stuff that's inside of us, the stuff that makes us feel dirty, those are our pasts and our demons. The thing about those things is that you can't give them to anybody. They're yours, and always will be. You can't give them to anyone else, much less anything else. They stay inside of you."

Harper's face remained blank as he thought this over. He glanced at her.

"But the Ubers always says we'll get things dirty when we's touch 'em."

Beka struggled to keep her face blank. "No, Harper. They were wrong. You can touch anything you want and they won't get dirty, and what's more, it's okay for other people to touch you too, since they won't get dirty. Trust me." She held up her hand. "See, just look at my hand."

When Harper finally seemed to accept this, Beka gave a relieved smile and then glanced down at the mattress.

"You ready to try this thing out now?"

He looked like he was going to shrug, but stopped himself in time and slowly nodded.

Going over to the mattress, he crouched down beside it and lightly ran a hand across it. Yanking it back, he squinted at the white fabric he touched, and a hint of relief flickered across his face when he saw it was just as white as it had been before. 

Beka grinned. "You see? What did I tell you?"

Giving her a tiny, distracted smile, Harper was staring at the mattress, looking like he was about to jump into a blackhole. Finally, he clenched his jaw and scampered onto the mattress. Lying down, he wedged himself into the far corner of the mattress and curled up in a little ball. He grinned at Beka and lightly traced the soft stitchings beneath him.

"It feels like you're lying on socks." He whispered.

Beka laughed quietly. "To you, everything feels like socks." She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him.

When she saw him calm down and uncurl slightly, she decided her job was done. Crossing her arms, she grinned at him. "Alright, now don't you dare move until morning, and at least try and get some sleep. This incessant insomnia really isn't healthy, you know."

"You should talk, boss." Came the mumbled reply.

Beka pretended to glare down at him, then turned around and slowly walked towards the door, thoughts of her own abandoned bed dancing in her mind.

Just before she reached the door, a soft voice called her back.

"Boss?"

She turned around and squinted through the darkness at him. "Don't tell me you're sick of the mattress already. I swear, I'll tie you to it."

"No, it ain't that. The mattress is real nice. Feels just like socks. I wanted to ask you something."

With anybody else, my captain would have told them to shut up and ask her in the morning. But this was Harper.

"What?"

A slight uncertain pause. Then: "You said that the dirt—the demons—on the inside can't get out, right? So how does you makes them go away?"

Beka thought it over for a moment. "Well, you fight them, I guess. You either drown them in alcohol—like you have been doing quite successfully for years—or you fight them until they give up and leave you alone."

Another quiet pause. "But….but what if you can't do it on your own? What if you ain't able to fight 'em on your own?"

Beka glanced down at the floor, a quiet smile tugging on the corner of her lips before she answered.

"Then somebody has to help you fight them, Harper. They're people we call friends."

With that, she turned back around, hugging herself as she quietly walked back to her own room, her gun still tugged into her boxers, leaving Harper curled up on the mattress, thinking over what she'd said.


	15. Chapter 15

The Diaries 

Chapter 15

Author's Note: I had such a great idea the other day. I say that all of us authors out here teach Parisindy a little something called patience this summer. Just think, we have more than two months to teach her the virtue of patience. How do we do this, you ask? Well, if you're writing a story, just leave it in a cliffhanger and then move onto another story and conveniently forget about it for a few weeks. Hehehe. (Raven sniggers and ducks when Parisindy throws something at her computer)

Alright, on to more important things. Thanks for the reviews guys! They were greatly appreciated. I hope you like the next part. It's long and it's angsty. Raven's specialities. I'll warn you. Have kleenex beside you as you read this. Sorry for any inconveniences. Now, read it and tell me what you think.

Database Records Archive: 34 (10088)

If Harper ever tells anyone that very little changed over the next year, Beka and I are both ready to put up a fierce argument. 

Seamus Harper changed so much over the next year that by the end, I hardly recognized him as being the same scrawny, terrified mudfoot who had crept around bare foot in filthy clothes and wouldn't talk to anyone. But it's not as if Harper just woke up one day, adjusted to life in space in the society spacers have built for themselves. The adjusting was slow—painfully slow at times—and was straining on everyone involved, including Harper, Beka, Vex and myself.

I'm just quickly scrolling through my archives here over the past year and I really don't have the time to tell you about each and every one of them, but I'll try and give you an overview. Now—hold on. Damn it! I've tangled up my data flow somehow. These damn records are too old and unorganized. Let me just try to—damn, it won't go! Where is Harper when you need him? There he is! Crawling around in my slipstream engines. Now, if I can only get his attention…Oh! I know! I simply turn on my emergency light…there we go. Now he's coming over to see what's the matter. Alright, now I just have to spit out a damage report that says my memory archives are tangled up and I can't fix them. There we go. He's reading it, he's smiling and now he's laughing, telling me I'm impossible. Thank you very much, Harper. And I love you too. Now, don't just stand there, laughing. Fix the thing. There we go. Thank you, Harper. I wait patiently for a few minutes until—there we go! Data flowing in every direction, bright green strands floating past me. Alright. Now we're in business. Thank you very much, Seamus. I don't know what I would do without you.You may go back to fixing my slipstream drive. 

Where was I? Oh, yes. An overview of the entire year I'm skipping over because I'm too busted, old and lazy to play you each archive seperately. Hey, I'm allowed to be be busted, old and lazy. I don't have an AI.

Database Records Archive: 35 (10083)

Specific Time: The time frame starting from record 33 and ending at record 37.

If Beka thought that getting Harper to sleep on the mattress would cure his insomnia, she must have been disappointed when she caught him three weeks later, sitting in the piloting chair at three o'clock in the morning. She'd stared at him, her hair tangled and her eyes half closed, her entire body still half asleep, and she'd asked him point blank what the hell he was doing.

Harper had calmly told her he was watching space with me. She'd raised a tired eyebrow and had demanded to know what the hell was so interesting that he couldn't watch it during the day time, like normal people. Harper had shrugged and mumbled that "the stars don't shine as pretty when all them lights are on in the corridor, and 'sides, the drifts we pass by ain't glow so bright during the day time."

Beka had gaped at him for a second, before telling him to get his ass back to bed before she picked him up and threw him through the windsheild.

Harper had nearly lost his temper—until then, a rare occurrence—and had demanded to know why he couldn't stay there, since he never ever touched any of my controls and didn't keep the rest of them up. Besides, he reminded her, he didn't sleep. Beka had crossed her arms and stared at him, exasperated. She'd finally scowled and told him that it was unhealthy and just plain weird to sleep for two hours a night and be so damn energetic during the day. Harper had shrugged and said that it just took a couple of years of practice. Beka hadn't been impressed. She'd marched Harper back to bed and told him that he had to at least try and get his body to adjust to sleeping longer, unless he never wanted to live to see the middle of his twenties. 

Harper had then demanded to know when he would get to see the stars "and the pretty junk" outside if he had to stay in the crew quarters the entire night. Beka had looked like she wanted to strangle him, but they finally reached a compromise. Harper would go to bed when everyone else went, and he had to stay there until at least five in the morning, when the lights in my corridor were still dimmed and everyone "normal" was still sleeping and "you and this damn ship can stare at space for as long as you want, or at least, until breakfast is on the table."

If Beka thought that putting Harper under room arrest would cure his insomnia, she was once again disappointed. Harper refused to sleep. He'd simply lie curled up on his mattress, wedged in the furthest corner, his knees pulled up to his chest. His hand always lay casually close to his pant leg, where he kept his knife. He'd lie there, wary blue eyes staring through the darkness, that unwavering gaze never leaving the door. 

Every tiny sound—the hiss of those damn leaky pipes, the hum of my engines, Vex's shifting around, the metal floor's creaking—all of them made him tensen up and left him hardly breathing, eyes never leaving the door. 

Looking at Harper in those days, I found myself praying that nobody would decide to rob us in the middle of the night. If anybody would even put one foot onboard myself, Harper would immediately hear them and chances were, he'd cut them to ribbons before they even had both feet on my deck. It wasn't a situation I was looking forward to.

It didn't take Beka long to figure out that Harper wasn't sleeping a wink more than he was before, only now he wasn't creeping around and doing something entertaining, but was lying curled up on the mattress, paranoia and fear being his only two companions.

Vex told her to give him time, but Beka spat that she had already tried that and it was obviously not working. Vex had sighed and then told her that if she really wanted to fix the problem, she would have to dig to the bottom of it and find a practical solution for it. Yelling at Harper and holding a gun to his head wouldn't make him sleep. Beka had scowled and demanded to know why the damned "beast" refused to sleep and why he was being so damned difficult. Vex had blinked at her and had told her that that was the problem she had to get to the bottom of.

So Beka had marched into the engine room where Harper was rewiring something and had cornered him and threatened to stuff him into the boiler if he didn't tell her why he refused to sleep.

He stopped what he was doing and turned to her. I thought he was going to shrug or not answer her, but he had learned that Beka never takes no for an answer and only got mad when he tried to beat around the bush.

Staring at his hands and fiddeling around with a scanner, he finally mumbled that it wasn't safe to sleep. 

When Beka hadn't done anything except raise her eyebrows—her sign that indicated he needed to do more explaining—he sighed and looked like he really didn't want to get into it, but figured he had to, so he did.

"It ain't ever safe to sleep when you's lying on the ground same as everyone else. Anyone can sneak up an' slit your throat while you're sleeping or—or do somethin' else."

Beka swallowed hard and her gaze drifted onto the floor. She seemed slightly uncomfortable. She probably hadn't been expecting that answer. Truth be told, I hadn't either.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Beka shook her head, dismissed Harper's last words and reclaimed her control of the situation. Looking around, her eyes drifted off as she mulled over the problem. Finally, she crossed her arms and looked Harper straight in the eye, ignoring his fidgeting and the fact that his eyes were looking everywhere, except for at her.

"Well, would you be more comfortable if you weren't sleeping on the ground?"

He frowned. That was her cue to elaborate.

"There's that vacant bunk above Vex. He never took it because he says the constant climbing up and down wasn't good for his back. Anyway, you can have that one if you want."

He looked at her. "You sure, boss?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I am." She scowled slightly. "Idiot." She mumbled as an afterthought.

That night, Vex helped Harper throw a pillow and blanket onto the top bunk, which Beka had gotten down from the cargo hold. Although Harper didn't use the pillow and curled up in a corner on top of the blanket, at least he was on the bunk, and he was lying on the mattress and the blanket. It was a start.

Just before he went to bed, Beka came into the room with a small, black device which had a green light blinking on it. She'd tossed it up to him. He'd turned it around in his hands and then frowned down at her.

She grinned up at him. "It's a small alarm system, or rather, it's a biosign scanner. I've programmed in mine, yours and Vex's bio signs, but if the scanner detects any other life signs, or bio signs, on board, it'll start beeping and vibrating. So now you can sleep and keep your eyes closed like a normal person, and if someone does come onboard without us letting him, the scanner will wake you up." She smiled. "My dad gave it to me when I was younger, but I've always been too deep of a sleeper to wake up when it beeped. I don't think that you'll have that problem."

Throwing him one more smile, she turned on her heels and went to her room, telling Vex to have a good night before she disappeared.

That night, Seamus Harper actually slept. For five hours. Without waking up. On a mattress. On a blanket. With the small, glowing scanner clutched in his hand. 

His insomnia didn't disappear over night, but he gradually got used to sleeping for longer periods of time, and he felt safe on the top bunk with his scanner right beside him.

Nobody knows this except for Andromeda, Beka and myself, but Harper slept with the scanner every single night for years while onboard myself, and later on, while on the Andromeda, he continued to do so, until Rommie finally convinced him that she was able to detect any strange lifesigns before the scanner could, and she could warn him in ample time.

He'd come back onboard and had hidden the scanner underneath his pillow on his bunk, and he still uses it whenever he spends the night onboard me.

Database Records Archive: 36 (10083)

Specific Time: The time frame starting from record 33 and ending at record 37.

Along with Harper's sleeping habits changing over the next year, his personality did a lot of changing too. 

Slowly, step by step, he started lowering that defensive, silent shield he had kept resurrected around himself and started coming out of his shell.

He smiled more and laughed more, and Beka, Vex and I glimpsed the beginnings of the sense of humor which anybody who knows him today would never believe it wasn't always a permanent part of him. Oh, he always had the sense of humor. The wise cracks. The sarcastic remarks. The burning insults said with that grin which always made Beka fly off in a rage and make Vex laugh until his sides hurt. He always had those, but he never felt secure and safe enough to unleash them, but as the months went by, he slowly relaxed and let us glimpse the real Seamus Harper who lay hidden beneath a blank faced stare and a wary silence which had been engrained into him from years of living under Nietzschean oppression. 

He started to trust Vex and Beka and realized that they never meant him any harm, and treated him as a friend, and even as part of the family. After awhile, he wasn't only comfortable enough to laugh and joke with Vex or Beka, but had longer conversations with them, and when Beka got into a disagreement with him, he no longer shrank away and turned into a silent, blank faced child who was too scared to disagree with anybody over anything, but he actually stood up for himself. He never yelled at her. He hadn't come that far yet. But he started to match Beka's stubborn attitude with one of his own, yielding to countless meaningless bickerings and shouting matches which either left Beka throwing things at the walls and Harper crouching in a corner, glaring quietly, or left them laughing hysterically over the stupidity of the argument. 

Our little mudfoot from earth slowly adjusted to life in space amongst people he was never meant to live with. The rules and unbelievably false myths which Nietzscheans had implanted within him since the day he was born were slowly replaced by Beka's rules and her constant fight to tear apart the lies he had been forced to believe for years. 

The blank faced stares became less frequent and were replaced by a sparkle in those blue eyes and a wide grin. The long, terrified silences changed into swearing, laughing and arguing that left Vex constantly looking at him with an amused smile on his face and left Beka glaring and seriously considering taking up drinking. 

Database Records Archive: 37 (10084)

Specific Time: Five months after Beka gave Harper the scanner

My captain sat at the console behind the railing in my cockpit, impatiently tapping her foot on the ground and drumming her fingers on it.

"Come on, already, old girl." She grumbled.

I'm going, I'm going. A little patience would be appreciated, captain. It takes quite some time to run these damn scans, you know. 

I forced my old scanners to work a little faster. Scanning Harper from where he sat, completely unsuspectingly in the kitchen, I downloaded all the data and quickly sorted through it. Throwing out such irrevelant junk such as his eye color, height and number of fingers—yes, I know. My scans are extremely thorough—I finally isolated all the information Beka wanted and spat it out. The long list of data flowed onto the screen which Beka was staring at. 

"Finally." She mumbled, stopping her tapping and leaning over to squint at the data. Thank you very much, Rebecca. I love you too.

It was as if she'd heard me, or felt bad, because she paused and glanced up at the ceiling. 

"Sorry about that, old girl. I know I'm being an ass, but it's just….oh, you know."

I know, captain. I understand.

I've been running these scans on Seamus for nearly seven months. After Harper had been part of my captain's crew for three months, Beka suddenly noticed that he looked just as thin as he did the first time he had stepped through my airlock. Immediately, worry had engulfed her and she'd told me to run a scan on him and to monitor his weight for her.

This was how I found out Seamus Harper weighed eighty-seven pounds the day he joined my crew. I was so shocked when the reading came back that I repeated the scan. When the reading came back and gave me the exact same answer, I couldn't help but feel dismayed and horrified. There is a definite disadvantage to being a machine. You're always right.

Beka had been just as appalled and horrified as I had been. She had started forcing Harper to eat every single day, three solid meals a day and have as many helpings as he wanted until the food ran out, or he ran to the bathroom, already throwing up everything Beka had stuffed into him.

On days when he claimed he was full, Beka would raise an eyebrow and threaten to stuff the food down his throat herself if he didn't eat. 

This obsessive force feeding had continued for weeks until Harper's body had started resenting the additional food it was getting, and he could hardly swallow a single bite before having it come back up again. Vex had calmly talked some sense into Beka and told her to let him eat at his own pace or he would make himself sicker than he already was.

Beka had nearly broken down and had demanded to know how she could just stand there and not feed him, knowing that if he didn't have that extra bite, he could be dead by tomorrow. Vex had chuckled softly and told her that Harper had lived for nineteen years eating once a day—if he was lucky—and he was still alive. 

Although Harper's weight had leaped around wildly for those months—he gained two pounds one week, only to lose five the next and gain three the week after that—for the past three months, he had been slowly but surely gaining weight. I am very proud to say that he now weighs ninety-eight pounds. Still an atrociously low number for somebody his age, but a vast improvement. At least now he didn't look like anybody could snap him in half like a dry twig, as Beka would say.

However, my scans weren't only to keep track of Harper's weight. I monitored the contents of his blood stream—checking for any viruses or foreign bacteria, and counting his antibodies, of which there were so few that I didn't know how he had lived this long, and lastly, making sure he didn't have anything there which shouldn't be there. I know that last bit can be considered an invasion of privacy, but Beka had asked me to do it. And besides, with Harper, even a cold could kill him, never mind something else he decided to poison himself with.

I checked for any lice, fleas or other little beasts which could make him sick. I monitored his vital organs, making sure that they all remained functional. Living on a ship with filtered, clean air had helped clean out the toxins he had been inhaling for years, and the decrease in alcohol had helped stablize what was left of his liver, which is so trashed that he must have started drinking at a very young age. Later on, I would learn I wasn't far off the mark at all. 

My captain sat down at this console in the cockpit once a week and I downloaded all the information from my scans for her. She'd sit there, pouring over them, mumbling to herself, nodding in approval or swearing and scowling at a number which had dipped from last weeks.

I got so immersed into this habit that I still do scans on Harper everytime he visits me, even though I know Andromeda does these scans for me. Beka had asked her to. Don't tell Harper, but Beka still checks Andromeda's scan readings every couple of weeks. She never tells Harper, and I doubt even Dylan knows, but old habits die hard. Protecting our crew is something my captain and I always do, no matter where we are and how much time has gone by. It's our duty. And besides, they are our family.

Beka leaned both of her elbows against the console, biting her lip as she scrolled through the numbers and Vedran letters.

Coming to one number, she paused, her finger poised over the button. She frowned and glared at the number.

"Oh, damn you." She swore, hitting the console with her hand. Glancing up, she mumbled an apology.

Turning the screen off, she pushed herself up and marched down the corridor towards the kitchen.

Rounding the corner, she stepped through the doorway, walked over to the table and crossed her arms, glaring down at Harper and Vex, who were devouring their dinner.

When neither of them looked up, Beka started tapping her foot impatiently. Finally, Vex looked up.

"What on earth is the matter, Rebecca?" Vex asked, looking up and putting his fork down.

Beka didn't answer him, just glared at Harper, who tactfully kept his eyes trained on his dinner.

"Don't bother, Vex. It's me she's after." Harper mumbled, pretending to be absorbed in the way his fork was shaped.

Finally, he sighed and glanced up. "What?" he demanded.

Beka glared. "Don't you 'what' me. You were running around without your damn shoes yesterday, weren't you?"

Harper's eyes darted around, as if he was deciding whether to lie or not. He shrugged.

"And you picked up a cold bug."

He frowned. "A what?"

She rolled her eyes and glared. "A virus, you idiot."

He stared at her. "So?"

"So? What do you mean, so? You'll wake up tomorrow with a cold the size of the Maru."

Harper blinked. "I still don't get it. So?"

Beka let out a frusterated grumble and looked like she was going to explode, when Vex chuckled softly.

"Rebecca, calm yourself, my dear. The boy won't die if he gets a cold tomorrow—"

"How the hell do you know that?"

"—and even if he does, that'll teach him to take off his boots in the middle of the night, now won't it?" he stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork and chewed on it. He waved at Beka's chair with the fork. "Now, sit down my dear and have some dinner."

She scowled, glaring around. "I'm not hungry."

Vex chuckled. "Not hungry for dinner or not hungry for desert?"

Beka smiled momentarily when she heard Vex's childhood question. Rafe and her had notorious sweet teeth and had discovered quite early on that Vex never minded letting them skip dinner and pig out on junk food instead. At least they ate something.

Harper looked up, his eyes darting back and forth between Beka and Vex. "We're making desert?"

Beka rolled her eyes and sighed. Glancing between Vex's raised eyebrow and Harper's eager grin, she caved in.

"Alright, fine. We'll make cookies."

Not waiting until she changed her mind, Harper whirled around in his chair and yanked open the fridge. Rummaging around, he pulled out a carton of frozen cookie dough and slammed it onto the table. Kicking the fridge closed with his foot, he grabbed the carton and flung it onto the counter beside the sink.

When the carton skid across the counter and stopped within an inch of falling off the edge, Beka cringed and turned on Harper.

"Beast, how many times do I have to tell you not to throw food around?"

"Relax, boss. I can throw a knife and nail someone square in the throat from ten yards away. I figure I can chuck a cookie carton two meters away onto a counter and not miss."

Beka stared at him. "I'm not even going to comment on that." She mumbled, before going and taking out the cookie tray.

Chuckling, Vex pushed all the dishes on the table into a pile, waving his hand at Harper when the latter started to carry his over to the sink. "Don't worry about it, Harper. We'll make cookies and clean up later. We play first, work later."

Harper gave him a small grin. "If only slave planets worked like that." He mumbled.

Vex gave him a sad smile. Turning around, he put his hands on his hips and watched Beka rummaging around in the cupboards, swearing and demanding to know where the frigging grease was for the tray.

Vex rolled his eyes. "This is your own kitchen, Rebecca, and you wouldn't be able to find the door in it if there was a fire in here."

Beka scowled, dropping an armful of pots and pans onto the ground. "Shut up and help me here, Vex. I can't find anything in this damn cupboard."

Vex smiled and reached over her head onto the shelf above the stove. "That's because what you're looking for isn't there."

He grabbed the can of cooking oil and put it down in front of her nose.

A small snigger piped up from behind her. She glared over her shoulder. The snigger stopped.

"I wasn't laughing, boss. I swear."

She stared at him trying to keep his face straight, before a smile tugged on the corners of her own mouth. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. Staring down at the pile of metal kitchen ware on the floor by her feet, she shook her head, laughing.

"God, I'm impossible in this kitchen." She laughed, holding her sides. She looked up at Vex, who was greasing the tray. "And you know what's funnier? This is my own kitchen!"

Harper and Vex exchanged exasperated looks as Beka bent down to shove the mess back into the cupboard, laughing hysterically.

Harper snuck up behind Vex and reached around him and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. Running around to the other side of the counter, he grabbed the carton and pulled it open. His eyes lighting up, he dug the spoon in and chewed on a huge mouthful of raw cookie dough.

Vex stopped what he was doing and stared at Harper, and amused smile on his face. Shaking his head, he went back to greasing the tray and then washed his hands.

Grumbling, Beka had finally stopped laughing and had managed to force the cupboard closet despite the bulging hulk of pots and pans thrown together behind the groaning doors.

Standing up, she dusted her hands off on her pants and then immediately frowned when she saw Harper digging into the cookie dough.

"Shorty, what are you doing?" she asked, disgust and curiousity in her voice.

Harper gave her a blank stare. He glanced down at the spoon in his hands. "I'm holding the damn spoon right. What the hell are you's complaining 'bout?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not the way you're eating, idiot. It's what you're eating. You're not supposed to eat the dough until it's baked."

"Why?"

"Because it's got raw eggs and junk in it that isn't supposed to be eaten raw. It isn't good for you."

Harper gave her a grin. "Baby, life isn't good for you. If it were, none of us would die because of it."

Beka ignored that comment with an exasperated groan. She stared at him, waiting for him to say he'll either stop eating it or for her to go to hell.

Harper's habit of staying silent when he didn't want to answer something was slowly starting to be replaced by his habit of blabbing on and on about absolutely nothing to avoid giving a real answer. It's a habit that exasperates and annoys everyone he knows, and I don't know whether Beka prefered the silence to the endless meaningless chatter.

Harper finally frowned at her, taking another bite. "Boss, I ain't give a damn whether it's good for me or if it ain't."

"Harper, it's raw cookie dough. There's a reason it's called raw. Because it's meant to be baked before you eat it."

He shrugged. "Boss, I've eaten raw rats. I absolutely don't give a damn whether my food's cooked or raw. It don't make a difference. As long as it's dead, I'll eat it and like it."

With that, he went back to digging around in the carton and staring at Vex turning on the oven.

Beka looked speechless for a moment, and once again, she was in a situation where she had tried to explain something simple and Harper had shot it down. The differences of the societies they had grown up in had clashed together once more, and Beka had lost. She looked like she was going to try again, but then figured the cookie dough wouldn't kill him, so she let it go. Instead, she scowled at him and nodded at the carton.

"Give me the damn carton already. We won't be able to make any cookies if you eat it all."

Vex grinned at her. "Let the boy eat all he wants, Beka. If he eats enough, he'll be throwing up in ten minutes anyway, and we'll get all the cookies."

Immediately, the carton skid across the counter towards the cookie tray. Vex and Beka laughed at him while Harper sulked and sucked on the spoon.

Taking out two spoons, Beka handed one to Vex and they started spooning out mounds of dough and shaking it onto the tray. Putting down her spoon, Beka pushed and prodded her little mound of yellow dough into a perfect round blob. She frowned in concentration as she turned this way and that, making sure it was perfectly round. Don't ask. It's an old childhood obsession.

Finally satisfied that it was perfect, she picked up her spoon again and was about to scoop out another spoonful of dough when Vex purposefully bumped into her. 

Beka fell forward and her spoon landed on her perfect cookie dough mound and she squished it flat. Giving a little cry of dismay, she glared up at Vex and Harper, who had erupted into hysterical laughter. 

Beka glared. "Haha. Hilarious. What a good, Vex." She spat, staring down at her deformed blob of cookie dough. Scowling, she looked up just in time to see Harper reaching across the counter with his spoon, going for the carton.

Reaching over, she lightly swatted his spoon with her spoon. He shrank back but then darted forward and scooped up a spoonful of dough before ducking away from her.

Grinning at her from across the counter, he sat back and chewed on the cookie dough.

As Beka tried to fix her crippled cookie mound, she finally gave up and put her hands on her hips, torn between dismay and annoyance.

Finally, she glanced at Vex patiently scooping mounds of dough onto his half of the tray, expertly shaping them into perfect little round mounds.

Beka promptly reached over and quickly set to work squishing all of his little mounds.

"Hey!" Vex cried out and reached over to grab Beka's arm. 

Beka used her other hand to hold him off as she laughed hysterically and squished more of his cookies.

Laughing, Vex finally picked Beka up and carried her out of the kitchen. They laughed hysterically as Beka screamed into the kitchen for Harper to squish the rest of Vex's cookies. Better yet, he should shovel them back into the carton.

Harper leaned over and waited until neither Beka nor Vex were looking, before he reached over and grabbed the carton and leapt off his chair. Laughing quietly, he ran out through the backdoor, running into the engine room.

Moments later, Beka noticed he was gone.

"Vex! Harper ran!"

"So?"

"So? What do you mean, so? He's got the damn cookie dough!" she cried, staring at Vex as if he was stupid.

Vex immediately let go of Beka's arm. Still armed with their spoons, they took off down the corridor, yelling vile threats at Harper and laughing hysterically.

While the two of them ran all over the place, throwing up doors, brandishing their spoons like weapons, Harper was calmly sitting in the piloting chair, his knees drawn up, the carton in his lap. He had pulled himself into such a tiny ball that neither Vex nor Beka saw him when they poked their heads into the cockpit, threatening to stick him into the boiler—without the cookie dough—if they found him.

Harper just sat there, chewing on spoonfuls of the dough, chuckling to himself as Beka and Vex's laughter drifted around him.


	16. Chapter 16

The Diaries 

Chapter 16

Database Records Archive: 38 (10084)

Specific Time: A month later, in the middle of the night

Some time during the night, I flew into an asteroid field. I know. I'm very sorry. I tried to warn Beka, I really did. But my stupid com system fried and I couldn't have told anybody if Magog had boarded or not, never mind the fact that I was flying straight into a pile of rocks.

Oh, why the hell don't I have an AI?

The only person who knew, other than me, was Harper. It was five in the morning and he was sitting cross legged on the piloting chair, staring out of my windsheild as usual.

He had been quietly staring around, but when he saw the asteroid field straight in front of us, he got a little nervous.

"Uhm, Maru? Ain't you thinking that you better turn a little the other way? We's heading straight into those rocks there." He said, sounding nervous.

Yes, I know, Harper. But I was in normal auto-pilot, not emergency auto-pilot. Damn it! If something hits me, or my controls fry, my emergency auto-pilot turns on and I can turn and stop myself if necessary. I can also enter slipstream by myself. I can't navigate it, but hey, I'm not perfect. However, in normal auto-pilot, I can't do anything, except stare and watch in horror as those huge chunks of rocks come closer to me.

Get up! I screamed at Harper. Get up and get Beka!

Harper licked his dry lips, his face going pale. "Maru? I's really thinking it would be the best thing if you's just turns a little the other way. Them rocks ain't look real friendly." He whispered, his voice shaking. 

They're called asteroids, not rocks, and don't just sit there! Go get Beka! 

As the asteroids drifted closer, Harper's eyes grew wide and he glanced down at my controls uncertainly. I was silently screaming at him to just disengage auto-pilot, grab my controls and yank them any which way, but I knew that Harper wouldn't dare put a finger on my controls.

As I entered the asteroid field, drifting peacefully towards menacing chunks of rocks, Harper finally realized I couldn't help myself and neither could he.

Pushing himself off the chair, he leapt up the stairs and ran down the corridor, his face pale and his eyes scared. Running into Beka's room, he ran over to her, calling her name. 

When she didn't wake up—my captain is the deepest sleeper I have ever encountered—Harper reached out and tentatively shook her shoulder. 

With a groan, she slowly opened her eyes. Not recognizing the dark figure bent over her, her eyes flew wide open and her hands reached for her gun.

Realizing what she was doing, Harper backed up a few steps. "It's me, boss." 

Breathing hard, she squinted through the darkness at him. "Harper? What the hell are you doing?"

He licked trembling lips. Fidgeting around, he was hopping from one foot to the other.

"We's heading straight into a rock pile, boss, and the Maru can't turn herself 'round or stop. She tried real hard but she can't. You's got to come quick and turn her 'round." he stammered.

I spied the asteroid on my external sensors a split second before it smashed into my side. Harper nearly fell over and Beka fell against her wall as I shook violently, carrerring straight into another asteroid. I stared in horror as I thought it would go straight through my windsheild, but thankfully, the impact of the first asteroid and thrown me off course and the asteroid smashed into my other side, my hull crunching and groaning under the dull thud.

Throwing her covers off, Beka swore and ran out of her room. In the corridor, she ran straight into Vex. Not needing to explain, Beka ran to the cockpit, on the way yelling for me to disengage auto-pilot. Gladly, I obeyed. 

Leaping over the railing and landing in her chair, she yanked my controls down and forward. Groaning and shuddering, I changed direction and shot out of the asteroid field. 

Just to be on the safe side, Beka flew us a little further away from the field, before finally allowing herself to breath. 

Losing her tight clutch on the control, her face pale, she took a deep, shaking breath and in a harsh whisper told me to engage auto-pilot. 

Immediately, she pushed a strand of blond hair out of her face, and with quick fingers, downloaded a damage report. It took exactly one second to pop up on the screen. I had prepared it while she was flying me away from the mess I had flown myself into.

Wide awake, all thoughts of sleep gone from her mind, she rubbed her bare arms and scrolled through the report. She frowned and bit her lip at the extensive damage the asteroids had done to my hull, but then quietly sighed in relief when she discovered none of them had been breached. She pushed herself off the chair and went down the corridor, her bare feet padding quietly on the metal floor. 

She reached the engine room, where Vex and Harper were busy trying to stop a leak of anti-matter which had erupted when my hull was turned inside out. Damn asteroids.

Vex's tool belt hung around the old man's hips as Harper darted in and out from under his arms, fixing things at a pace twice as fast as Vex's.

Vex turned tired eyes towards Beka. Although his eyes looked tired the rest of him looked wide away and controlled, as always, not letting his temper get away with him, no matter what the situation was.

"How's the old girl?" he asked.

Beka sighed. "The hull's pretty smashed up in two places but it wasn't breached. We're leaking anti-matter like crazy and seven coolant pipes running along the hulls which were crunched are now blocked up and leaking. None of it is major and we could probably let it sit until tomorrow, but the coolant pipes are pretty damn blocked up and I'm afraid that they'll burst before tomorrow."

Vex nodded. "It would be safer to take care of them now." He yawned. Beka hugged herself, trying to stay warm in the chilly engine room.

I increased the temperature slightly. 

I couldn't help but feel bad. I know that technically this isn't my fault, but still. I should have told Beka to fix the com system last night and not let it sit there. This entire mess could have been prevented.

Harper glanced at the two of them, punching buttons on a beeping scanner.

"Boss, if you ain't mind my saying so, it'll be one hell of a job to fix those pipes from in here. They's too close to the outside bulkhead. We'd have to dig through three walls of metal, countless wires, pipes and other crap before we even got to them. I say we just wait till we get to the next station and I'll fix them there from the outside."

Beka exchanged a grin with Vex. She glanced at Harper.

"No, Harper, that's okay. We don't have to wait until we get to a station. We can fix them right here."

He frowned. "Here? Tonight?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

He blinked. "From the outside? In the middle of space?"

"Yup."

Complete silence greeted this. Then: "You nuts, boss?"

Beka laughed. "My dear, little shorty. No. I'm not nuts. Believe it or not, ships like the Maru are built to accommodate these emergencies."

I felt a little better, but then remembered that if I hadn't been so lazy and dumb last night, Harper and Beka wouldn't need to have this conversation. My little glimmer of happiness evaporated.

Vex laughed and disappeared into the room beside my hangar where the EVA suits are. He pulled one on and was about to zip it up before he swiftly unbuckled his tool belt and dropped it onto the floor. Mumbling something about the belt being uncomfortable in the suit, he zipped it up.

Back in the engine room, Beka was still explaining to a bewildered looking Harper.

"We've got EVA suits, Harper. This is what they're for. You put them on and hock yourself up to the ship and you can drift around outside and fix stuff."

His eyes widened. "Drift around outside?"

She nodded.

"But ain't the air out there squish you as soon as you're out there?"

Beka raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell told you that?"

He waved it aside. "Some old guy."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Alright, first of all, there's no air out there. There's no pressure. There's nothing out there. You just drift around and nothing squishes you, but if you push yourself off of something too fast, and you're not attached to something, you'll keep on drifting and you won't stop until you bump into something. And that something might be light years away. Space is pretty big."

He stared and nodded. "You bet," He breathed.

Just then, Vex walked into the room, his steps loud and clunky due to the large boots which came with the suits. He was holding his helmet in the crock of his arm, and his tool belt dangled from his hand.

He grinned at Harper, who was staring at him as if Vex was some monster he had never seen before in his life.

Beka laughed at his expression and took the scanner from Harper and handed it to Vex. Finding his voice, Harper glanced at the scanner.

"I made the two hull crunches red so you can sees 'em real good. All them busted pipes are blue."

Vex smiled and shook his head as he stared at it. "Very artistic, Harper. I'm very proud."

Beka laughed and then yawned. Jerking her head towards my airlock, she mumbled for Vex to get a move on so they could all catch at least a wink of sleep before they had to be at Infinity.

Putting the scanner into one of the suits' side pockets, Vex took some tools out of his belt and put them into other pockets, tying small pieces of string around them so none of them could fall out of his grasp and drift away while he wasn't looking. 

He was about to put his belt down, when he smiled and handed it to Harper.

Harper stared at it, confusion on his face.

"Put it on, Harper. It damages the old thing when it lies around on the floor somewhere, and besides, you'll be fixing stuff in here while I'm out there anyway so you might as well put it on." He smiled. "Besides, I know you'll take care of it."

Harper smiled back and gently took it and carefully buckled it around his waist. He stared down at it, lightly running his fingers over the worn, brown leather.

Vex strode towards the engine room door and gave him a wink over his shoulder.

"Don't get too attached to it yet, Harper. But trust me, as soon as this old body of mine keels over, you can have it."

With that, Vex walked down the corridor, hollering to Beka that he was going and she should come and help him attach the cable or else she was going to be the one to madly fly after his drifting old bones when he accidently let go.

Laughing, Beka told him she was too tired for old bones jokes and went to the airlock.

Meanwhile, Harper was still admiring the belt, turning this way and that and letting the light shimmer on the many metallic tools which hung in the soft belt.

Tearing himself away from it, he went out of the engine room to a console hanging beside the ladder. Punching around on it, he paused, his finger moving back and forth between two buttons, not remembering which Vex had told him to push.

The left one, Harper. The left one, I quietly urged him. He bit his lip and finally shrugged his shoulders and pushed the left one. 

Immediately, loud static crackled out of the intercom hanging above the console. Harper leapt back, before he tentatively pushed the red response button on the console.

"Vex? Can you's hear me?" he whispered, still not feeling too sure about the whole talking-to-a-metal-console deal. He released the button

"Harper? Is that you? Pipe up a little, my dear. Don't worry." Vex's static chuckle carried over the connection. "The console won't bite you, child, but you'll have to put some more volume into that voice. These old ears of mine can't hear you."

Mustering up some more courage, Harper pushed the respond button again.

"Sorry 'bout that Vex." He said, trying to sound brave.

Vex chuckled again, his voice sounding distant and crackly over the com. "There's that voice I know and love. Don't worry, child. You'll get used to it. Give me a moment. What, Rebecca? What do you mean 'do I have the scanner'? I might be old but not an idiot. Yes, I know, it's too early for the old jokes. My apologies. Anyway, did you attach the cable—yes? Alright, here we go."

The whine of my airlock opening screeched over the com and Harper nearly leaped back. I watched Vex check the cable one more time before making sure his helmet was attached securily. His heavy, rhythmic breathing grated over the com, sounding strange and out of place.

Slowly, he stepped out of my airlock and grabbed hold of my hull before asking me to shut the airlock. I complied. 

Moving carefully, Vex pushed himself off my hull and drifted down my side until he reached the spot Harper had marked on the scanner. 

A low, crackly whistle carried over the com. "Well, that asteroid sure did a number on the old girl. She looks horrid. Oh, well. Nothing we can't fix." 

Thanks, Vex. You really know how to give a girl a compliment. 

Harper smiled quietly.

Vex pulled out his nanowelder and carefully turned it on. Pulling himself closer to my smashed hull, he started cutting the dented chunks of metal away. Using a rope, he tied the pieces to my bulkhead. One piece dislodged itself and started to drift away, but Vex grabbed it just in time and chuckled quietly, scolding it.

Harper smiled when he heard what had happened.

Vex set to work trying to get the dents out of the tangled and crumbled coolant pipes sitting exposed before him. He worked quickly and quietly, humming from time to time and then explaining to Harper what he was humming and asking Harper to run scans now and then to check if everything was alright.

When he had finally gotten the dents out of the pipes and soldered the leaks shut, he untied the pieces of my wall, hammered out the dents and then soldered them back on.

Vex pushed himself a little back to look at the wall.

"Well, she doesn't look as good as she did before, but she looks a mighty sight better than she did twenty minutes ago."

Harper smiled, running a finger along the console. "Well, let's hope she ain't get herself bent out of shape because of that."

The two of them burst out laughing as if that was the funniest thing they ever heard.

I couldn't help but groan. When it came to lame jokes, nobody could top Vex or Harper.

Reeling out more rope, Vex made sure he had all of his tools and then slowly pulled himself up my hull, gripping pipes and ridges with his large gloves to propel himself upwards.

Drifting over me, he ducked underneath my huge propellers and walked along on the bottom of my cargo hold, chuckling to himself and having the time of his life. The man was drifting around in open space, doing one of the most lethal things you could possibly do in space, and he was waltzing around upside down on my cargo hold, telling Harper that he simply had to try this one day. 

Harper smiled and said that he didn't think Beka would ever let him run around my outside bulkhead with a nanowelder in his pocket. Vex laughed and told him that they'd try it on a day when Beka was planetside somewhere, negotiating a contract.

Vex finally reached my other side and drifted along until he found the other hull breach. Humming to himself, he cut pieces of my battered hull away and tied them up and then went to work on my smashed up pipes.

"So," he said to Harper, his voice crackling over the com. "How's my belt doing?"

Harper lightly patted the soft leather buckled around his waist with one hand, while he typed around on the console with the other.

"Real good."

A static chuckle. "You see? I knew you'd take good care of it."

Harper smiled absentmindly as he ran another scan. Pushing the respond button, he leaned over.

"The pipe you's doing now is just fine, Vex, but the one way in the back is still smashed up pretty bad. Pressure's building up pretty bad."

Harsh, rhythmic breathing carried over the com. "I see it, Harper. I'm on it."

He carefully pulled out another tool and set to work getting the dent out of the pipe. The pipe was vibrating from the built up pressure. It felt like a tangled knot in my side. Hurry and fix it, Vex. It was killing me.

With a dull hiss, Vex undid the dent and the coolant liquid swoshed through the pipe, propelled forward by pent up pressure. I sighed inwardly. That felt so much better.

Smiling, Vex undid the bundle of bent hull parts and banged the dents out and welded them back onto my side.

When he was done, he told Harper to tell Beka he was on his way back in. Harper leaned over and yelled down the corridor that Vex was coming back.

Beka yelled back that it was about time and he should hurry his old bones up. Vex chuckled when he heard that. He pulled himself up my side, breathing evenly and asking if it wasn't too early for old bones jokes.

Harper laughed quietly and ran another scan. I quickly scanned the pipes and downloaded the data for Harper to see. He nodded in satisfaction when he saw the scans were clean.

"All the leaks have stopped and the pipes are right good." He said.

Vex nodded, reaching my cargo hold. He pulled himself up and started using the underside of my huge cargo hold's metal bottom to propel himself forward. Letting go from time to time, he drifted around me, pushing himself back from time to time when he came close to colliding with my wall. I nearly rolled my eyes—had I any real eyes. Men are so immature.

The cable which was keeping Vex connected to my airlock slowly drifted behind him. Vex had reeled it out pretty far, but he was slowly rolling it back in as he nearly reached my other side. The cable still hung limply behind him and like a snake, slithered along my hull as Vex pulled himself forward.

Suddenly, the cable snagged on a little piece of jagged metal sticking up from my hull. Where that damn piece of metal had come from, I have no idea. Probably some idiot engineer at a drift somewhere had forgotten to hammer it back down after doing something there. The cable caught on the metal and immediately tightened when Vex reached out to pull himself forward again. The cable went taut and Vex was suddenly jerked backwards with a startled cry. From his momentum and the tightness of the cable, he went carrerring backwards and hit a metal pole which he had just passed. The back of his helmet smashed into metal with a sickening crunch which carried over the com.

Harper jerked his eyes off the data he was scrolling through. Reaching up, he punched on the response button.

"Vex? You alright? What the hell was that?"

Breathing hard, Vex slightly shook his head to keep from blacking out. "I'm fine. Cable got caught on something. It's okay." He gasped out, his voice shaking with static and delayed fear.

Vex pushed himself away from the pole with shaking hands and drifted over to the metal and pulled the snagged cable away from it.

Turning himself around, he started drifting towards my airlock again, reeling in the cable. 

I noticed his breathing was still ragged and a lot heavier than it had been before. I scanned him. Physically, he was fine.

Harper looked up worriedly when he heard the crackly, heavy breathing carrying over the com. Vex slowly came to a stop and clutched some ridges on the under side of my cargo hold.

He was frowning, his eyes widening. He was gasping for breath.

"Harper—something—wrong—can't—breath." He gasped out, his breathing becoming more frantic and louder. Sweat streamed down his face and he dropped his cable, trying to breath.

Suddenly, I saw it. The little rubber hose connecting the oxygen tank on his back to his helmet had been cracked when his helmet had smashed into the pole. Oxygen was hissing out of the crack.

"Vex? How far are you from the airlock?"

Vex didn't answer for a moment, his eyes closed and his face going paler. His raspy breathing grated through the com, and Harper's face looked terrified.

"Vex? Can you hear me? You have to get to the airlock, okay? I'll tell Beka to reel you in, but you have to get to the airlock, okay? Vex? Can you hear me?" His voice was shaking.

Vex's labored gasps for breath rasped over the com, static nearly drowning it out.

He had stopped moving and he moved his lips soundlessly, trying to say something.

"Can't—breath—"

Panicking, Harper turned around and screamed for Beka to run and reel Vex back in. When she wanted to know why, he snapped that she shouldn't ask stupid questions and just do it. When she appeared in the doorway of the room he was standing in and gave him a weird look, he just poined at the com with a shaking hand.

Beka's face paled when she heard Vex's breathing getting swallower and raspier.

Swearing, she ran for the airlock.

Vex's life signs were getting weaker. His eyes were closed and he had let go of the ridge he had been clutching. His face was pale and sweat streamed past his closed eyes. 

Harper looked at the com, shaking. "Vex? Come on, talk to me. Please! Vex, come on! Just say something. Please!" he pleaded.

Vex slowly forced his eyes open when he heard Harper's frantic words. The cable around his waist was pulled taunt as Beka started reeling him in.

Licking his lips, he struggled for another swallow breath, taking in the last snatches of oxygen left in his helmet.

"Take—care—of—each—other." He whispered weakly, his words nearly lost in the crackle of static which infested the connected.

Harper stared at the com, clutching the edge of the console with shaking hands.

"Vex? Vex? You still there? Vex?"

He stared at the com with wide eyes, the silent plea in his eyes for the sound of another word—any damn word—to come through it.

He stood there, frozen. The last faint sounds of Vex's grating breaths faded away, and the only sound left was the harsh crackle of the static, snapping through the connection.

I really didn't want to do this next part, but I had to.

I checked Vex's life signs. 

They were gone. 

Silently, I turned on the emergency light on the console Harper was clutching. The little red light started blinking and a tiny, rhythmic beep vibrated through the tiny room, being nearly drowned out by the static coming from the com.

Harper tore his eyes off the com and stared down at the red light as it blinked on and off, his eyes completely empty.

Vex was dead.

The red light kept on blinking, the tiny beep echoeing throughout the room as Harper stared at it, his face and eyes blank.

Oblivious to the pain it was causing, the static continued pouring out of the com, engulfing Harper as he stood there.

With a violent jerk, I cut Vex's connection to the console. Abruptly, the static ceased and the only sound in the room was that tiny beep.

It reminded me of a heart beat. How damn ironic.

Beka worked frantically, muttering to herself and swearing when my reel was too slow. Grabbing the thick metal cable herself, she started pulling it herself. The rough metal slid through her hands, scrapping her skin away, blood seeping onto the cable. Ignoring the pain and blood, she didn't take her eyes off the open airlock through the door behind which she was standing. Pulling harder, her hair falling into her eyes, her hands slipped on the metal and a stray metal wire sliced a huge gash in her palm. Swearing, Beka kept on going, throwing handfuls of the cable behind her and nearly tripping in them.

Finally, Vex's still form appeared in front of my airlock. Beka yanked him in, his body drifting through the airlock until he was hanging in midair.

Dropping the cable, Beka gasped for breath—from pain or fear I didn't know—and told me in a shaking voice to shut the airlock and pressurize the room Vex was floating in and flood it with oxygen. I obeyed. In three seconds, I pulled open the door behind which Beka was standing. She ran over to where Vex lay on the ground. Unclipping his helmet with shaking, bleeding hands, she jerked the helmet off and threw it behind her. Tearing open his suit, she screamed for Harper to get the first aid kit.

Ripping the suit off him, she ran a shaking, bloody hand through her hair, leaving streaks of blood in the blond strands.

Harper ran up to her and handed her the first aid kit, his eyes blank as he stared at the still body lying in front of him.

Beka grabbed the kit from him and tore it open, throwing everything out of it and swearing until she finally found the adrenaline needle. 

Turning it on with shaking hands, she drove it into Vex's heart and injected the life saving liquid. 

Pulling it out, she stared at him, her breaths coming in gasps and her eyes wide with wild hope. 

"Come on, Vex. You can do it." She mumbled, her voice sounding closer to tears.

Vex didn't move. He lay on the ground, his face pale, beads of sweat sliding down his face. His eyes remained closed.

Swearing, Beka leaned over and drove the needle in again, mumbling snatches of hysterical words while she did it.

"Come on, Vex. You can do it, you old bag of bones. Come on. You're too damn stubborn to die. Wake up already, damn you. Come on."

Harper shifted around from one foot to the other, watching Beka frantically trying to save someone who was already dead.

"Uhm, boss? He's dead. There ain't nothing you can do for him anymore." He mumbled quietly, looking at her gently. He didn't even glance at Vex, but was watching Beka.

Beka jerked around at the sound of his voice and stared up at him, breathing hard, her eyes wild with pent up fear and hysteria.

"He's not dead." She hissed.

Harper glanced down at the floor. "Boss, he was dead before you pulled him in." he said quietly.

She snapped. "Are you the damn captain here, or am I? I am! And if I say he's not dead, then he's not dead! Got that?" she screamed, her bloody hand clutching the needle in her hand.

Harper stared at her, his face blank. He gave her a slow nod. "Okay, boss. Whatever you say."

He slowly took a step back and let her face reality herself. I found myself hoping it wouldn't hit her too hard. From the way Harper was staring at her, I could tell he was hoping the same thing.

Shaking, Beka turned back to Vex and dropped the useless needle and started her hysterial rants again.

"Come on, Vex. You heard me. I said you weren't dead. It doesn't look good when the captain's proved wrong, you know. You told me that once. I remember that. Come on, Vex. Open your eyes. I know you can do it." When Vex didn't answer, a sob caught in her throat. Leaning over, she grabbed Vex and roughly shook him. "Wake up! Damn you, Vex! Wake up! You can't leave me here! Damn you!" Tears spilled from her eyelids and streamed down her face. Shaking, she wiped a bloody hand across her cheek, smearing blood onto her cheek.

Tears quickly overtook her anger and she slowly let reality sink in. Letting go of Vex, she curled her hands together and brought them to her mouth, empty, grieving sobs racking through her.

Squeezing her eyes shut, bitter tears poured down her face, mixing together with the blood on her cheeks. She gasped for breath, the pain threatening to tear her apart. 

Curling herself up, she rocked herself back and forth, sobbing bitterly.

Harper stood there in the corner, looking at her, his face still blank. When he saw she had finally accepted things for the way they were, he looked like he was going to leave, but then bit his lip and glanced at her.

He could see her pain and could see she needed someone. I remembered Vex's last words. 

"Take care of each other." I wondered if those same words were echoeing through his mind too.

Apparently, they were.

Creeping across the floor, he slowly crouched down beside her. He looked at her, sadness clouding his eyes.

Beka sensed him crouching beside her and raised her tear streaked face from her arms. She stared at him, grief filling her eyes.

Harper looked at her, understanding her without her having to say a word.

Reaching out with tentative arms, he gently pulled her into his arms and held her, letting her cry bitterly into his shoulder. 

He looked like he was going to pull away, but then he did what he was going to do very often in the following years. He pushed aside his own fears and willingly and bravely reached out to Beka, filling the role which Vex had left behind. After all, they were family.

Realizing that Beka wasn't going to do him any harm, he let himself relax and gently stroked her back, not saying a word and not moving away until Beka was ready to stand up on her own.


	17. Chapter 17

The Diaries Chapter 17 

Author's Note: Sorry it this took a while longer than it was supposed to. The computer refused to cooperate with me, and well, you know me and my complete technological illiteracy. Anyway, I finally went to one of my *cough* trusty sources and she helped me out. If that hadn't worked, I would have done what parisindy emailed me to do, but I figured it out. Thanks for the offer, you're the sweetest! Thanks for the awesome feedback guys! It keeps me going. This next part is a little angsty, but chapter 18 is all fun and games. I promise. Uhm, actually now that I think about that, scratch that promise. Thanks to everyone who gave me feedback, you guys are the best, but you know that already! Have fun reading!

Note for Parisindy: I still have that damn weiner song in my head!! You try sitting in a bus stop and not have everyone look at you like you're nuts when you're humming that! It's even worse when some people start singing along. Oh, the humiliation. Oh, well. I'll get over it. In the mean time: This is the song that never ends….he he.

Database Records Archive: 39 (10088)

Whenever I see this record, I replay one particular scene over and over again. Vex walking upside down on my cargo hold, laughing and telling Harper he simply had to try this one day. I rewind it and watch it again. Vex walking upside down on my cargo hold, laughing and telling Harper he simply had to try this one day. I rewind it again.

Andromeda didn't understand why that particular scene haunted me so much, but of course she didn't understand.

She didn't understand because she doesn't know that the scene contained nothing but broken promises and haunting premonitions.

Harper never went space drifting and probably never will. After Vex's death—after the accident—he developed such a violent paranoia towards being outside in space that nobody—not even Beka—could convince him to give it a try. He has never willingly put on an EVA suit either and vowed he would never go near the airlock when we were in space. Even in emergencies, Harper said he'd rather die in here than put one foot out of my airlock. 

Looking back at that scene, nobody could have guessed that this would happen. That Harper would become terrified of space. Terrified of the enormous, empty darkness surrounding any ship he was on. Nobody could have guessed that he would never step outside of a ship, even if his life depended on it. 

After the accident, space ceased to be a place of beauty for Harper. Instead, it turned into a dreaded darkness full of fear and hidden danger. 

Harper never again spent nights sitting in my piloting chair, staring out into space and marvelling over the beautiful things he saw outside. He spent his nights sitting in the kitchen or the crew quarters, staring at a wall. 

It was only now that I found myself finally understanding why Harper had loved space so much and had been so amazed by the beauty in everything he saw. It seems quite sad and ironic that I only realized this now.

The beauty in space had been the simple fact that it had held no fear for Harper. It had held no hidden dangers, no cloaked demons, no pain. Now, space had become just as ugly as everything else he knew. A place of fear where he never felt safe or secure. Who in the right mind could call this a place of beauty anymore?

Database Records Archive: 40 (10084)

Specific Time: Three days after Vex's death

Beka sat on her bed, leaning against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. She was staring in front of her, her face blank. Her eyes were dry for the first time in three days. Apparently, she had run out of tears.

The day after Vex's death, we had given him the usual cargo haulers funeral. We didn't have enough money to give him a proper burial on a planet somewhere, and besides that, we were days away from any planet which would let us just fly in and bury someone and then leave. So, we had to do what my captain and I, and the old captain and I had done with so many lost crew members and family members, including Beka's mother. 

We place their bodies gently into a disabled escape pod, and everybody says good bye. Some people just stand there, shifting around, not knowing what to say. Others wish them better lives wherever they might end up. The few religious crew members I've had pray for them. There is hardly anybody who cries. Up here, everybody is too hardened to let themselves cry. Besides, if one of them broke down, chances were that pretty soon everybody would be bawling and it would turn into a mess, so nobody cried.

Vex's funeral was no different. Beka whispered good bye and bit her lip to keep herself from crying, reminding herself firmly that Vex had always told her to be strong for her crew. Harper had just stood there, staring at the escape pod with blank, empty eyes.

When Beka asked him if he wanted to say anything, Harper turned and stared at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Beka didn't push him and turned around and quietly shut the door of the escape pod.

Kissing her hand, she pressed her hand against the cold hull of the pod, before stepping back and quietly telling me to jettison it.

I obeyed, and moments later, the pod was slowly drifting through space towards the sun we were hovering beside. The pod turned slowly and quietly, floating through space in a deathly silence. 

Moments later, the pod erupted into flames and then into a brilliant, sparking explosion and then was gone. 

Like so many of my other crew members and so many members of my family, their lives ended in silence and a brilliant flash, followed by darkness. In death, they were exactly the same as they had been in life. 

Beka hugged herself and leaned her head against the wall. She had forced herself to be strong for Harper in the past few days. Just like Vex had told her to. She'd pushed aside her own grief to make sure her crew knew they could depend on her and lean on her if they wanted to, since she was the strong one. But with Harper, she soon discovered that he didn't need any comforting. He didn't need a shoulder to cry on. He didn't need to have someone strong to look up to and tell him it would all be okay. He continued living life exactly the same way as before Vex's death. Come to think of it, looking at Harper, nobody would have been able to tell that the bunk below him used to be occupied just three days ago.

Beka had been in too much pain and grief to worry over Harper's reaction. She simply dropped her strong, brave façade and surrendered to her grief. She cried and cried and cried. Anger would suddenly consume her and she would scream at ghosts which only she could see, demanding to know why he had left her all alone, even though he had promised never to leave her. The next moment, the anger would fade away and she would crumble into a flood of tears, drowing in her own grief.

As she sat there on her bed, staring at the wall, I knew she was had started healing. The anger was gone. The tears were dried up. By no way was her heart whole again, but it was starting to heal. Nobody would ever replace Vex in her life and her heart, but she was slowly starting to make room to allow other people to enter her heart and fulfill a different role in her life.

My captain is one of the strongest people I have ever met, and I never cease to be amazed by the strength she lives life with and how she continues to find hope even in the universe's darkest corners.

There was a small shuffle of boots dragging across the floor towards her room. The shuffle stopped and he stood at the door, leaning against the doorway, looking across the floor at her. He shifted around uncomfortably, probably wondering why she didn't look at him and ask why he was here. He fiddled around with something he held in his hands. I focused my internal sensors better and zoomed in closer. It was Vex's old toolbelt.

"Uhm, boss? Can I's ask you something?" he stammered quietly. When Beka didn't answer but continued staring at the wall, he got even more uncomfortable and glanced back around her room, unsure of what to do. 

Come on, Rebecca, talk to him. Your crew needs you.

"Uhm, if you's busy then—then I can just come back and asks you later, or if you's don't want me to ask then I'll just not ask and I'll just go away and leave you's alone." He mumbled. 

Rebecca, come on. Talk to him. He probably isn't going to ask for much, but he needs you.

Slowly, my captain blinked and briefly closed her eyes, clearing her mind of the memories which had been drifted past her. Opening them again, she glanced at Harper.

"No, no, Harper. Don't go. Ask what you came here to ask." She said, running a hand through her short blond hair.

The uncomfortable shifting around didn't stop. "If you's don't want me here, boss, then I can leave. If I'm bothering ya, just tell me."

She shook her head, giving him a weak smile. "You never bother me."

He licked nervous lips and glanced at her uncertainly. He seemed to be debating within himself how to ask what he came there to ask, but he finally gave up and held up the toolbelt.

"I was just wondering what you's wanted me to do with—with the toolbelt."

Beka frowned. "Didn't Vex give it to you?"

Harper's gaze drifted down to the floor and he did a little shrug combined with a small shake and nod of his head. Whatever the hell that meant.

Beka leaned forward slightly, pushing aside her own needs for those of her crew.

"Harper, I heard Vex say that when 'his old bones keeled over', you could have the belt. Asides from that, I know Vex always wanted you to have it. You're a better engineer now than he was and you'll be the one scampering around the Maru fixing her from now on. You'll need that belt if you're going to get anything done." She smiled. "Besides, you've earned it. And Vex trusts you with it. He knows you'll take good care of it."

Harper gave her a weird look at those last words, but then a small smile flickered across his face. He lightly ran a finger across the soft leather, the metal tools in it clinking together.

"You mean I can have it?"

Beka nodded. "Vex trusted you with it, I trust you with it, it's yours, shorty. Take good care of it."

Grinning, Harper's eyes sparkled, his gratitude evident in his eyes, even though not a word of thanks crossed his lips. He still didn't know how to say thank you, but he knew how to show it.

That dazzling grin on his face, he turned around and walked down the corridor, carefully buckling the belt around his waist. He made sure it was tight enough and it wouldn't fall off, and then he sorted through the tools, running quick fingers over them and checking to make sure none of them would fall out. Smiling in satisfaction, he looked down at the belt and then slowly walked down the hallway, grinning everytime the tools clinked together.

Andromeda interupted me at this point and demanded to know if that belt was what she thought it was. It is. 

That belt is the exact same one Harper wears today. The belt which a young Ignatius Valentine had bought with his hard earned money years before, the same belt which his best friend had taken over the responsibility of after it's original owner's death, that same belt's care had now been entrusted to a mudfoot from earth who was born years after the old captain had first bought the belt. It's new owner never knew the person whom it once belonged to, and never knew to whom the initials carved inside the soft leather belonged to.

Looking at the belt today, I knew that the old captain would be proud, and so would Vex. Harper has taken care of that belt better than anybody could have asked. He cleans it regularly, never lets anybody else wear it and never takes it off unless he's sleeping, and even then, he hangs it on a nail beside his bunk on me, or puts it on his dresser while on the Andromeda. Wherever Harper goes, that's where that Ignatius' old belt goes. He has always kept that old promise to take care of it, and will always keep it.

Beka smiled quietly as she watched Harper grin and his eyes light up when she'd told him he could keep the belt. She watched him turn around, his mind already on the belt. 

She leaned her head against the wall, biting her lip. She stared after him and softly sighed.

"Well Maru, two years ago would you have guessed that today it would only be the three of us?" she laughed softly, sadly. "A beat up, old, rusty cargo hauler, a drug dealers daughter who can barely scrape out a living, and a mudfoot from earth whose already lived too long the day he was born." She laughed again, staring at the wall again and hugging her knees. "What a combo we make, huh?"

Database Records Archive: 41 (10084)

Specific Time: A week later

Once again, I was trying to contain my frustrations at the idiot who hadn't given me an AI. I never wanted a fancy hologram. I don't want to be able to have a fancy avatar like Andromeda. All I want is to be able to talk to my crew and help them. I ask you, is that really too much to ask?

My engineer was sitting in the cargo hold, hiding behind huge stacks of crates and boxes of junk. Bottles of Bobby's whisky—which Beka had forgotten to throw out—were lying in an open crate and empty bottles lay strewn around the floor, amongst which Harper sat. He was leaning against the wall, hugging an open bottle to himself. He was staring at the stack of grey crates in front of him with such concentration and emptiness that I thought he would burn a hole right through them. From time to time, he'd take another swig from the bottle, swallowing the burning liquid without a wince. 

I checked his blood alcohol level. I cringed when the readings came back. He was drunker than Bobby was on a bad day. The thing that struck me most about it was that Harper didn't appear drunk at all. He just kept on drinking and drinking, downing the alcohol the same way somebody drank water. His hands weren't shaking, his eyes hadn't misted over with that alcohol crazed haze in which Bobby's used to. I'd hate to see how much Harper needed to drink to fall into a drunken stupor or to reach the state my captain fell into after two shots of vodka. My captain's tolerance is non-existant. 

Running a scan on his liver, I knew that Harper was no stranger to drinking. Judging from the state of deterioration of his liver and his bloodstream and his unusual high tolerance, I guesssed he had been drinking for much longer than he should have been.

He took another swig, staring intently at the wall. He made a face and frowned at the bottle.

"Weak shit," He mumbled, taking another sip.

When that bottle was empty too, he dropped it onto the floor and let it roll around among the other bottles. It slowly came to a gentle stop after rolling into the corner of a crate with a dull clink.

Harper stared at the still bottle, his face and eyes blank. Sighing, he drew a hand through his spiky hair and pushed himself off the floor. He wasn't wearing his boots. 

He went to the stack of crates before him and used the ridges and edges to climb up them as deftly as a spider. Once he reached the top, he crouched there and squinted into the far corners of the cargo hold, making sure it was empty. Considering how drunk he was, his sight was still sharp and he wasn't swaying a bit as he perched on top of the pile of crates.

Crawling to the edge, he jumped down, landing soundlessly on the metal floor. Shaking his head slightly and wincing a little—finally the alcohol seemed to have some kind of an effect on him—he went over to my ladder and slid down. He landed in my corridor without a sound.

Wiping sweaty palms on his pants, he slowly padded across the floor towards the crew quarters. He was swaying slightly, but he wasn't lurching and stumbling around at all and he wasn't shaking a bit. 

The only way anybody could tell that he was drunk was by his eyes. Their color was a fevered bright blue, making them glow brighter than they normally did. It looked like he had a fever.

Beka appeared in the kitchen and immediately saw him. Smiling softly, she called over to him.

"Hey, shorty. Haven't seen you for a while. Where have you been hiding?" She walked towards him. When he didn't respond and kept his eyes glued to the floor as he walked towards the crew quarters, she raised an eyebrow. Coming to a stop, she crossed her arms and barred his path.

Harper stopped two paces in front of her. "'Scuse me, m'm," he mumbled, not looking at her.

Beka continued standing there, not budging an inch. She ignored his mumble, but then frowned as she sniffed the air between them. She grimaced when she recognized the strong smell.

"Harper! Are you drunk?" she cried, disbelief and a tinge of amusement in her voice.

He didn't answer, only glared into my floor, waiting for her to move or to start yelling.

Beka raised an eyebrow again. "Harper, look at me." She commanded.

When he didn't move, she scowled. "Beast, if you don't look up right now and let me see your face, I'll reach over and lift up your chin myself and god help you if you try to run."

Glaring quietly, Harper slightly lifted up his head and glared at her for a split second before letting gaze drift back down to the floor.

Although he had only looked at her for a second, it was all my captain needed. She had been around too many drunk people not to be able to distinguish between normal eyes, feverish eyes, and alcohol clouded eyes.

She scowled at him. "Harper, you're piss drunk."

He shrugged. It was the first real response he gave her. "So?"

"So? It's in the middle of the day and you're drunker than Bobby used to be. You reek like whisky and your eyes look like you downed an entire crate of that filth. And you don't think there's anything wrong with that?"

He glared, not looking at her. "I can get drunk any time I wants." He muttered. 

She raised her eyebrow again. "Oh, no you can't. I'm the captain here, Harper, and I don't let my crew members drink themselves into oblivion whenever they want."

"Funny, you never said nothing to mister Bobby 'bout his drinking."

Glaring, she spat a retort right back. "The only reason I never said anything to Bobby was because he has an immune system, he doesn't have a trashed liver and he isn't a little weak mudfoot like you who runs the risk of dying everytime he takes a damn breath!"

"Nobody ever asked you to care."

She glared. "Damn straight nobody ever asked me to care, but here's the thing. You're part of my crew and you're my responsibility! Yes, nobody ever asked me to care, nobody ever asked me to worry, but I do."

He scowled. "Well, boss, you can shove that pity up someone else's ass. I don't need it."

She clenched her jaw as anger snapped in her eyes. "I said worry, not pity. But besides that, how many damn times do we have to go over this? I don't care whether or not you want my pity! You're part of my crew and you have no say over whether or not I love, hate, care or pity my crew. It's what captains do!" she snarled.

He was completely unmoved by her anger. 

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "Besides, what the hell would Vex think of you acting like this, huh? Drunk like there's no tomorrow, snarky, mouthy and full of attitude—"

He glanced up briefly, anger simmering in his eyes. "I don't care what the fuck Vex would think! He isn't thinkin anything anymore. Vex is dead." He snarled through clenched teeth.

Beka's anger immediately faded and hurt flooded her eyes at Harper's cold, indifferent tone.

She swallowed hard. Vex's death and the pain it had brought along were still fresh in her heart and Harper's coldness stung.

She slowly shook her head, staring at him with hurt in her eyes. She swallowed again as Vex's faded ghost drifted between them. She blinked back the tears which brimmed her eyelids.

"How can you say that like that?" she whispered, staring at him. She gave a harsh, empty laugh. "How can you just live your life as if it never happened? As if Vex were here, or better yet, as if Vex never existed? How can you just go around, acting like nothing's wrong?"

He shrugged, his empty eyes burning holes into the floor.

"How can you not care? Vex cared about you like you were his own son."

Harper was shifting around uncomfortably and was fidgeting around, shaking fingers grazing the toolbelt around his waist and then jerking away and fiddling around with his shirt or running thgough his hair. He licked is lips and his gaze darted around, his alcohol hazed eyes having trouble focusing on the things around him. Apparently Harper only showed signs of the alcohol he'd consumed when he was emotional. Which wasn't often. 

Beka continued staring at him in hurt and confusion 

He'd shrugged at Beka's hurt filled questions and pretended to shrug them off and ignore them. 

"How can you not care?" Beka's quiet, hurt voice filtered through the mists in his mind and he finally snapped.

Fiddling around with his shirt, the toolbelt and then lacing his fingers together into nervous clutches, he bit his lip and glanced up at Beka. The blank, indifferent look was gone from his eyes and I could see pain within their feverish blue depths.

"Because—" he licked his lips again and his voice was shaking from either the alcohol or suppressed pain. "Because it _hurts_ to care." He finally cried out, a sob catching in his throat. He quickly sniffed back tears and shoved them back to whatever little hidden part of him they had come from.

Beka swore softly and sighed when she heard him. She sounded almost relieved that she had finally gotten an explanation out of him, but it seemed that she hadn't been expecting this pent up hurt.

She dropped her arms and took a small step towards him. He didn't jerk away from her, only stood there, swallowing hard and his eyes darting everywhere. 

"Harper, I know it hurts. It's supposed to hurt. But you have to understand that alcohol won't make it hurt any less—"

He gave a bitter, harsh laugh. "Boss, you obviously ain't a drinker. I've been drinking since I was seven years old and I's always been fine. Never had to deal with no pain and none of that other shit." He licked trembling lips and glanced at her before his eyes were off again, jumping around and fidgeting like the rest of him. "'Sides, it ain't matter if it hurts or not. There ain't no point in sitting around and crying for the people who died. Crying and hurting won't bring them back. Besides, they ain't need our tears anyway. They's already dead."

Beka gaped at him for a moment, before anger and frusterated disbelief took over and she clenched her jaw.

"Harper, how can you say that? It's true, crying and grieving won't bring anybody back from the dead, but that's not the point behind the crying and the grieving. And the point isn't to give the dead something they don't need." She spoke softly and slowly, searching his face for any sign that he was listening to her. "The crying and grieving is for us, Harper. And that's what you don't understand. They're for us. It's the way all human beings get over someone's death or anything else bad that has happened to them. We let it out, and the way it comes out is with pain and tears. But if we keep it bottled up inside and keep it pent up by indifference and pretending it's not there and we keep on washing it down with alcohol, it doesn't make it go away. It never will. It just makes it try harder to get out and then you have to drink more and care less to keep it down and at the end, it'll kill you. I know it hurts to care, Harper and I know you're not used to it, but you have to try. It's part of being human." She whispered softly.

Harper stopped fidgeting and quietly listened to Beka's words. When she was done, he looked up at her, finally allowing himself to let go.

His jaw clenched up as he tried to suppress the tears which threatened to spill. 

His legs started shaking and he couldn't hold himself up anymore, so he gave up and let himself crumble on my floor. He sat huddled against my wall and rocked back and forth, shaking, until the tears finally came. With huge, gulping sobs, he squeezed his eyes shut as tears streamed down his face. Years of pent up grief and the enormous amount of alcohol in them were too much for him. 

Beka slowly crouched down beside him and looked at him, sadness in her eyes.

Tentatively, she reached out and gently brushed a tear off his cheek with her finger. Harper flinched slightly and looked at her, that hint of mistrust back. But his pain was too great for his guard to hold up like it usually did and he went back to sobbing.

Besides, for the first time in over a year, he needed and wanted physical contact. That primal instinct of all human beings to crave affection when they were suffering surfaced within him.

That was why when Beka leaned over and gently pulled him into her arms and rocked him back and forth, he didn't pull away.

He kept on crying, clutching a small fistful of her shirt in his hands as she whispered small words to him and didn't let him go.

"I miss him." He whispered in between grief stricken sobs. Beka nodded and squeezed her eyes shut to keep her own tears at bay. One of them escaped and slowly slid down her face. 

"I know, Harper. I know. I miss him too." She whispered and swallowed hard. 

How long my captain crouched there on the floor, holding and comforting Harper she neither knew, nor cared. 

But she didn't pull away until Harper let go of her shirt, sniffed and wiped his nose in his shirt and said he was okay now and would cry later. Beka smiled sadly and said he should just holler if he needed her.

In her own way, Beka too was fulfilling Vex's last words, which echoed around her and Harper like faint whispers from the past.

"Take care of each other."

Database Records Archive: 42

Specific Time: One month later

I was laughing so hard that I thought I'd short out my AG generator. My captain and my engineer were sitting at the table, poking odd looking lumps of something that was supposed to resembled pasta and sauce. Cooking was something neither of them had a great hang of.

For the past month and a half, they had been living off of take out pizza, some green Than grub—which neither of them ever wanted to know what it really contained,— old cans of ready made soup, stale bread or whatever else they could dig out of my cupboards or pick up on a market or drift which we happened to pass by. Luckily, my captain was used to eating barely edible scraps from years of Vex having to buy four people food with the two thrones leftover after the old captain was done buying his weekly Flash supply. And as for Harper, growing up in the streets and eating from dumpsters and scraps which other people didn't eat, he learned very early on not to be picky with what he put in his mouth. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that he wasn't joking when he told Beka he'd eat anything as long as it was dead. 

Even though neither of them complained over the deterioration of their meals, they reached a point where all the cupboards were empty and we were in the middle of nowhere and the only edible thing left onboard was stuff that you actually had to cook, not just heat up or open up.

Harper had right away gone to the cans of tomato sauce and said they could crack that open and eat the few crackers we still had somewhere, but Beka said it was starting to be ridiculous that there was all this food in the kitchen, and yet the two of them were basically starving to death just because neither of them knew the first thing about cooking. 

Vex had always done the cooking for Beka, and nobody did much cooking on earth. 

So, they decided to try their hands at cooking. Harper had given her a look as if she was telling him they were going to go space diving into a black hole. Beka had just scowled at him and said that they had both fought and won against the universe's odds for their entire lives, and cooking won't beat them. Harper and I weren't so sure.

If the universe was using cooking to finally wage war on my two crew members, I'm sad to say that two hours later, the universe won.

Beka had heated up the water for the pasta and then tossed in the entire package. Reading the instructions on the side of the box, she said she'd go and scroll through that morning's mail call, since she had ten minutes. Harper demanded to know how she knew she had ten minutes. Beka retorted that it said the noodles would take eight to ten minutes to cook, and why would they have put ten minutes there if that wasn't the time the noodles needed? Harper saw her point and was left alone in the kitchen.

Then Harper tried his hand at making the tomato sauce. Opening the can proved to be no problem. He simply whipped out his knife and cut the top of the can open. Somebody _had_ to teach him what a can opener was one of these days. Pouring the sauce into a pan, he put it onto the stove, and peered into, waiting for something to happen. When the sauce remained as still as a mirror, he frowned and yelled to Beka.

"Boss, why ain't the sauce making bubbles like it always did when Vex did this?"

A pause. Then a flat, dead-panned voice called back. "Did you turn the stove on?"

A mischievious grin lit up his face. "Well, I don't know. Do you want me to?" he drawled seductively.

"Harper!" Beka's amused and horrified voice yelled back. 

The grin flickered away. "Boss, what the hell do you mean turn the stove on?"

A grumbled. "Just press the button that says 'bottom right'."

Harper scowled. "How the hell am I supposed to know which one says bottom right? And what the hell is right anyway?"

Beka sighed and dropped her head into her arms. Laughing quietly, she shook her head and got up. Going back to the kitchen, she reached past him and turned the stove on. When the infra-red circle lit up beneath the metal pot containing the sauce, she put her hands on her hips, turned and stared at Harper.

"Don't tell me you don't know how to read."

Harper shrugged. "I ain't know anybody else that can read. What the hell's the use of reading anyway?"

Beka raised an eyebrow. "First of all, I can read, Vex could read and any of our clients can read—with very few exceptions. Second of all, if you can't read, you can't read labels on cans, you can't read the mail and you can't turn on a stove properly."

Scowling, Harper turned his back to her and threw the can into the garbage chute. Shaking her head, Beka went back to the cockpit to finish deleting junk mail, calling over her shoulder that some time soon they'd sit down and she'd teach him how to read.

Harper glanced after her doubtfully. Sensing his doubt, Beka grinned ruefully.

"Hey, I taught you how to count and how to tie your own shoe laces. I figure we can do reading too."

A few minutes later, the universe was probably chuckling at both of them. Beka's noddles had been cooked to mush when she forgot to check on them after ten minutes, and left them sitting there . They had finally boiled over and Harper had yelped and leaped back and then had shoved the pot off the stove onto the counter in a panic at the churning, hissing water. The counter now had a nice, round scorch mark on it and the noddles were paste. To top it all off, Harper had completely forgotten about the sauce and had left it bubbling madly when he tried to coax the noddle water into stopping it's hissing and boiling. Five minues later, the sauce had nearly boiled away, and the rest had turned into a charred disaster with clumps of miserable looking tomato chunks and some vegetables which were by now unidentifiable. 

Not knowing how to turn off the stove or how to turn down the temperature, since he didn't know which button belong to which, he started madly punching at various buttons. He turned the sauce's temperature up, turned the other two infra-red circles on and had turned the stove timer on, which then erupted into a loud wailing sound. 

Eyes widening, Harper leapt back from the stove and cowered beside the table, staring up at the stove as if it was some seething monster that would attack him in a second.

Swallowing hard, Harper held his knife in one hand and then cautiously slithered out of the kitchen and ran to get Beka, who was already striding down the corridor, demanding to know what incessant wailing sound that was.

"It won't stop, boss! I tried turning it off, but it ain't listen a bit and then it starts wailing like that. I never did nothing to it, I swear."

Beka brushed past him and quickly turned off the stove and then tried turning off the howling timer. Finally, she slammed her hand against the control panel and abruptly, the timer was silenced. 

Moving the pot with the burned remains of the sauce off the stove, Beka put her hands on her hips and surveyed their disaster dinner with an amused smile on her face.

Harper was still cowering by the door, his face pale and worried. Frantic eyes darted back and forth between Beka and the simmering pots.

"I ain't was my fault, boss, I swear. I ain't never meant to make it all hissy and—and bubbly like that. It just happened, and I tried talking to it real nice but it never listens to none of it and just keeps of hissing and being all mad and then I tried making it stop and then the wailing came on, and—and—I'm sorry boss. It wasn't my fault none, boss, I swears it." He blabbered hysterically.

Although his grammar had improved considerable in the past year, whenever he was afraid or angry, he'd slip back into that half coherent mess of tangled sentences covered with bad grammar topped off with a slight tinge of a Bostonian accent.

Beka turned and gave him a smile. "It's okay, Harper. Don't worry about it."

He stared at her, still worried. 

She laughed. "Harper, I mean it. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. I should have stayed here and kept an eye on the stupid noodles. Don't worry about it. The kitchen didn't burn down and you weren't hurt. Those are my two biggest concerns. I don't care about the rest." She looked back at the pots with weary eyes. "Alright, now come on. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry and we made this mess and now I have every intention of eating it, even if it kills me."

Harper smiled faintly, finally convinced she wasn't mad and wasn't blaming him.

While he took out plates, Beka grabbed a spoon and started trying to scrap some of the sauce out of the pot. Harper went to the pot of mush—I'm sorry, I mean pot of noodles—and dug into it with a fork and put a huge heaping of mush—noodles—onto both plates, frowning slightly when the noodles fell apart before he even put them on the plates. Shrugging it off, he turned to Beka, who spooned some sauce onto them, little bits of charred black bits mixed in with the half boiled away red mess which had once resembled tomato sauce.

Sitting down, they frowned uncertainly at their plates, before they both shrugged and dug in. Harper didn't even frown as he started methodically shovelling the mushy crap into his mouth. Years of eating barely edible scraps of anything that he got his hands on had taught him not to think about the taste, smell or age of what he was eating, but just to shut up and eat it. Beka hadn't grown up in quite so dire circumstances and couldn't help but frown in disgust after the first bite.

Shuddering, she put down her fork. "Alright, I'm sorry, but I've eaten bad things, but this has got to be on top of the list."

Harper shook his head and pointed at his noodles with his fork. "Try eating rotten orange peels and rats. Anything tastes better than that."

Beka nearly gagged. "Thanks. Really need that imagery."

Harper rolled his eyes. "Spacers."

Beka sneered. "Mudfoot."

Harper smiled at the retort and then pierced another noodle with his fork. "Breath through your mouth when you chew. You won't taste it that much." He mumbled with a full mouth.

Beka didn't even frown or pause over his strange suggestion but promptly dug into her dinner and chewed it while breathing in through her mouth. From the surprised look on her face, I could tell Harper was right. Smiling, my captain dug into the sad pasta with much more vigor than before.

Beka had stopped questioning these little, random things Harper said. Whenever somebody was walking down the corridor and Harper would sniff the air around himself and then tell Beka who was coming, she'd stopped demanding to know how he could distinguish them all by smell. Whenever his spider-sense warned him that danger was somewhere nearby, Beka stopped asking what danger there was, but immediately crept after him and didn't say a word until he said she could. Harper's spider-sense was never wrong and I doubt it ever will be. 

Whenever Beka lamented over the fact that they didn't have the money to afford new clothes, Harper simply told her to wear her clothes inside out for some variety or to take old shirts she never wore and to sew them together to make something new. 

Harper was the one who had taught her to climb up a ladder with her back to it when her hands were full and she had to go up just using her feet on the rungs. He taught her how to jimmy old locks open with knives, how to twirl three guns with two hands at the same time and how to make a whistle out of paper and scraps of metal. He taught her how to make different bird sounds which sounded so real it was eerie, and how to make things which resembled old earth pencils using nothing but ashes and water and making this greyish paste and then cooling it and using it to draw things. How Harper knew how to do all these things was beyond me but I guess growing up where he grew up, you learn these things after a while. 

Beka and Harper had an easy deal between them. Harper taught her little street wise things he knew, while Beka taught him how to do little things which everybody up here was basically born knowing how to do. They got the best out of both worlds.


	18. Chapter 18

The Diaries Chapter 18 

Database Records Archive: 43 (10084)

Specific Time: Three weeks later

Harper was sitting on his bunk, tinkering around with some gadget that he'd found lying in a corner of the engine room. His eyes had lit up the moment he saw that it was broken and he'd immersed himself into fixing it. 

Beka was standing in the kitchen in front of the sink, which was filled with a heap of dirty dishes, waiting to be washed. 

Grumbling, she put her hands on her hips. "Harper! Come on, already. These dishes won't wash themselves you know." She called over to the crew quarters.

Harper scowled at the door. "If ya stare at 'em for a long time, maybe they will."

Beka rolled her eyes. "Wise ass. Get your skinny little ass into this kitchen right now, shorty!"

Swearing under his breath, Harper carefully put the gadget onto his pillow—which he still didn't use and seemed to consider it some sacred object nobody should ever sleep on—and then leapt onto the ground with a dull thunk. Sighing and muttering to himself, he went into the kitchen.

"Finally," Beka mumbled, turning around to the sink to tackle the dishes. She turned on the water and grabbed a plate. Using a rag, she vigorously scrubbed the plate and rinsed food bits off of it. Frowning at it, she turned it from side to side, making sure it was really clean. Harper had never understood her insistance that their dishes always be so damn clean when they were just going to get them dirty again, but Beka had rolled her eyes and said he had no say in that whatsoever, since he hadn't even seen a plate before he met her.

Harper grabbed a rag from the counter and carefully took the plate and dried it. Unlike every other crew member I had seen drying dishes, Harper was the only one who not only enjoyed it but found some hidden joy in it that I couldn't understand. He'd wipe the dishes so carefully and gently as if they were all made out of crystal, and when they were really dry, he'd set them down on the counter in neat piles, making sure they didn't hit the counter too hard. I hadn't understood this obsessive fascination with handling the dishes so carefully, until the inevitable happened and one of them broke. 

I think I  still have that old record here somewhere. Let me just sort through this jumbled mess for a minute….there we go! Alright, here it it is.

Database Records Archive: 44 (10084)

Specific Time: Two weeks ago

Beka sighed as she stared at the piles of dirty dishes which lay scattered all over the kitchen counter and filled the sink.

"Harper, we've really got to clean this up."

Harper glanced over his shoulder at the mess and frowned. "What's wrong with it?"

Beka gave him a look. "This is a ship, not a dump, that's what's wrong." Getting up from her chair, she rummaged around underneath the sink until she finally found the liquid soap and an old sponge. 

Turning on the sink, she tackled the stack of dirty dishes while Harper just sat on his chair, watching her swearing and fighting with the dishes and getting soaked in the process.

Finally, she wiped a wet arm across her forehead and glared at Harper over her shoulder. She had soap suds in her hair, on her nose and on her arms.

Harper and I tried not to laugh. 

She scowled. "Well, what are you standing there for? Get over here and help me already. Half of these dishes are yours you know."

Harper shook his head. 

Beka sighed. "What do you mean, no?"

His eyes dropped to the floor and he shrugged. "I ain't like touching the water."

My captain stared at him. "What do you mean you don't like touching the water? You have a shower nearly everyday for crying out loud."

Harper shifted around uncomfortably, not saying anything else about it. Beka finally sighed.

"Alright, fine. Grab that rag on the counter and dry the dishes I hand you. Don't bother putting them all away right away. Just put them into stacks and we'll take care of them later."

Getting up, Harper eagerly grabbed the rag, glad to seize any opportunity which didn't make him touch my clean, filtered water unnecessarily. 

Beka quietly hummed an old rock 'n roll song as she scrubbed dishes and handed them to Harper, who carefully took them and dried every drop of water off of them as if they were priceless jewels, not just old, cracked dishes. 

Then he'd gently set them down into neat stacks and wait for Beka to get the next one. 

It happened in a split second. Harper had just finished drying a plate and turned to grab another one from Beka. When he saw that Beka wasn't quite done, he turned back to the other plate and gently rubbed some invisible spots off of it. Just when he turned back to the plate, Beka turned to him to hand him the plate. She was so accustomed to Harper being there and grabbing the plate as soon as she held it out, that she didn't even look and let go of the plate.

It crashed to the floor and shattered into tiny white shards of porcelain. 

Harper nearly leapt onto the table at the loud sound and Beka gasped. Both of them whirled around and stared down at the broken pieces of the plate.

Beka sighed and put her hands on her hips. After staring at the plate and realizing it wouldn't magically put itself back together, she shrugged.

"Oh, well. That's that." She grinned wryly down at the plate. "It was nice knowing you, plate, but if just wasn't meant to be."

Laughing to herself, she turned around to grab an old bag to put the shards of glass in before throwing them into the garbage chute. 

When she found one, she turned back to the broken plate, still smiling to herself. She was about to bend down and pick up the pieces of glass, when she noticed that Harper had crouched down beside the broken remains of the glass and was staring at it with such sadness that it might as well have been his parents lying broken on the ground, and not a simple plate.

Beka frowned down at him. "Hey, shorty. You okay?"

He didn't answer her, just sadly stared at the broken glass. Reaching out, he gently fingered a few of the sharp fragments before pulling his hand back and hugging himself as he crouched there on the ground.

Beka put the bag down and knelt in front of him. "You alright?" she smiled slightly. "Hey, you! Hello? Anybody in there? What's the matter with you? It's just a broken plate. It's okay. Dishes break all the time. It's why people make so many of them. Besides, there's no point in being upset or sad about it. Crying over anything that's broken is a waste of time. No amount of crying will make it whole again so you don't have to bother." She cocked her head at him when she realized he hadn't heard a word she'd said and was still staring at the pieces, nearly looking close to tears. There was such a sadness around him that it even made me feel uncomfortable.

Beka bit her lip, trying to figure out what could possible be bothering Harper so much about it. She decided to go for the usual reason.

"Harper, I hope you don't think this is your fault. You know it isn't. It was my stupid mistake. I handed it to you without looking to see if you were there. It wasn't—"

Harper glanced at her briefly, looking at her like she was a moron. "I know that, boss. That's not why I'm upset." He spat out, suddenly angry.

Beka frowned in obvious confusion. "If it's not that, then what the hell is the matter? What's wrong with you, Harper?"

He jerked his eyes off the broken pieces of glass and stared at her, anger flooding his eyes. The sadness disappeared and was replaced by this sudden anger. 

"What do you mean, what's the matter with me? What the hell is the matter with _you_?" he yelled at her.

Beka jerked back, surprise and confusion flooding her face when she heard his anger. She seemed just as lost as I was.

"Harper—I—Harper—I don't understand. Why are you so upset over this? It's just a broken plate." She tried to smile reassuringly, but it fizzled. 

He glared. "Just a broken plate? _Just_ a broken plate? What the hell is wrong with you? How can you not care? Do you think dishes fall out of the sky or something? You can just break as many as you want and snap your fingers and get new ones?"

Beka tried one more time. "Dishes don't cost that much. You know that—"

"Yeah they don't cost that much, but they sure cost a hell of a lot when you don't have any money. Ever thought of that?" he clenched his jaw and glared at the floor, his face softening when he saw the broken pieces of the glass. Sadness and anger ran together now, nearly bringing him to tears. He shook his head slowly, as if not understanding something. "You know, that's why we hate all you spacers, you know that? We don't hate you because you get to have everything we don't. No. We hate you because you take it all for granted." He hissed, years old anger laced into his words.

Glaring at her, he pushed himself off the floor and ran out of the kitchen to the engine room.

The door slid open and he ran through and hid in that little corner behind the slipstream drive. Behind the tangle of pipes, wires and huge chunks of metallic appliances, nobody could ever find him or see him.

Beka was left crouching on the floor, staring after him in confusion and hurt, that paper bag still clutched in her hands.

Database Records Archive: 45 (10088)

Beka never mentioned anything about Harper's response to the broken plate. It had taken her a while to understand, but by the end, I think that she did understand where Harper's anger was coming from. If I came from a place where we had to save money for weeks just to buy an old, cracked plate to share between five people, I'd be in tears too if it ever broke. And yes, I too would flip out at people's ungratefullness if they just waved it away and said they'd just go and buy another one. 

Harper's hatred for the way spacers lived their lives slowly diminished as time went on, but it never went away completely. Beka finally made him see that spacers were so ungrateful because they never had the need to be grateful for anything. They didn't mean to dismiss broken dishes and leftover food which was thrown out and hot water which swirled down the drain as they went looking for a towel and left the water running, but they didn't know what it was like not to have these things around them in great abundance and never felt the need to be grateful for them. Gradually, Harper accepted this and stopped flipping out whenever somebody threw out something they didn't eat just because they "can't eat another bite and by tomorrow it wouldn't taste the same." But there were still times when he barely contained himself and had to leave the room before he completely lost it.

It had happened nearly twice on the Andromeda. Once had been at a ceremonial dinner where the attending delegate didn't feel "that hungry" and instead of putting the food back, he got up and smiled to everyone as he threw it down one of Andromeda's garbage chutes. Harper had nearly choked on a mouthful of rice and had excused himself and had gone to his quarters and worked out his anger by throwing things around his room and drowned the rest in a bottle of beer. 

The other time had been when Dylan accidently dropped an entire tray of glasses. I don't know why he was carrying them or where he was going, but he dropped them. He'd laughed and shrugged it off, saying he was so damn clumsy. Harper had stood there, trying to contain his anger and sadness as he stared at the pile of broken glass fragments.

Dylan had glanced at him and laughed telling him to "excuse these old bones of mine". Harper had stared at him for a second, before fleeing to his quarters. 

Dylan had frowned and had gone to Beka and asked her what on earth was the matter with Harper. Beka had looked at him without a trace of a smile on her face and had told him that wasn't a good way to phrase the question.

Database Records Archive: 43 (10084)

Specific Time: I know I'm going backwards slightly, but Andromeda is being stubborn and annoying—typical High Guard ship—and refuses to go on without finishing record 43. So, being the dutiful little ship I am, I scroll backwards until I find it and then even go through the trouble of going to the exact place she left off. I don't really mind. I like this record. You'll see why.

"Here." Beka handed another plate to Harper, who took it and starting wiping it dry, gently turning it in his hands. 

Beka had her sleeves rolled up and had her hair clipped back in a tangled mess, but a few stray stands were flying around her face and she kept on brushing her wet arm across them, trying to smooth them back.

Her arms were soaking wet and her rolled up sleeves and her shirt had wet patches on them from leaning against the wet counter. From constantly brushing strands of hair out of her eyes, her face was soaking wet too with soap suds clinging to her hair and her cheeks. 

Whenever she was scrubbing a large pot or something which took a little longer than just plates, Harper would take the time to wipe the counter dry so she wouldn't get so wet and from time to time, he'd reach over and squirt more liquid soap into the sink for her.

Once when she nodded at him and wearily asked him to put more soap in, Harper got a mischievious grin on his face. When he grabbed the bottle, he didn't only squirt a little bit of soap in, but squeezed the bottle so hard that half of the clear gel came out and immediately was churned together with the running water in the sink. Immediately, soap bubbles billowed upwards and engulfed the dishes which had been in the sink.

Beka gave a surprised and dismayed cry when she saw the huge amount of bubbles churning around and climbing up the sink walls until she couldn't see the dish she was washing anymore.

"Harper! What the hell are you doing?" she cried, trying to reach over and turn off the water, which was still stirring up more bubbles. 

Laughing, Harper backed away slightly as Beka struggled to turn off the water without getting her shirt covered in soap suds. Biting her tongue, she frowned in concentration as she stood on her tip toes and gracefully reached over to turn off the water. Moments later, her fingers found the tap and she turned them off. The hissing of the running water stopped and the slight sizzle of bursting bubbles was all that was left.

That was when my captain lost her footing on the wet floor and fell into the sink.

Letting out a muffled scream, her arms flew up as she fell face first into the cloud of bubbles and water.

Harper's laughter died away when he saw her fall and his eyes widened, obviously knowing he was dead as soon as she came back up.

Moments later, my captain pulled herself out of the sink, spitting soapy water out of her mouth and swearing like a Nightsider. Her hair and face were soaking wet and covered in soap suds. Strands of her soaking wet hair clung to her cheeks and her forehead and clumps of soap suds were on her hair and her nose.

Elegantly pulling her arms away from the sink, with water dripping down her sleeves and her hands, she shook them out and then slowly put her hands onto her hips. 

Turning, she glared at Harper. 

If Harper's first instinct had been to run, that faded as soon as he saw her face. He dissolved into hysterical laughter, howling he was laughing so hard and clutching the counter to keep from falling. 

"Oh, my god, boss! You look hilarious!" he crowed.

Beka glared, water dripping down her chin, soap suds still clinging to her wet hair.

"You think this is funny?" she snarled between clenched teeth. 

Harper wordlessly nodded, laughing too hard to answer.

Beka narrowed her eyes. "You think this is frigging hilarious, don't you? Well, we'll just see about that."

Turning back to the sink, she dug around in the water hidden beneath the moutain of bubbles until she found the pot she had been scrubbing.

Lunging it out of the water, she filled it with water and soap suds and then heaved it onto the counter. Wiping a soap sud off her nose, she grabbed both handles of the pot and turned and dumped it on a still hysterically laughing Harper.

Immediately, the laughter ceased. Harper stood there, completely and utterly drenched. Water streamed down his face and his shirt and dripped off his hands and a small puddle formed beneath his feet. His pants had huge wet patches on them and even his boots were soaked. Miraculously, his hair was still spiky.

He gaped at her, at a complete loss for words.

Beka burst into laughter when she saw him standing there. She glanced him up and down before brushing a wet strand off her face. She grinned.

"Damn, you look a sight. Almost as good as me. Although, you still need some soap suds."

Reaching into the sink, she scooped up a handful of bubbles and threw them at Harper. Harper tried to jump out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough and she got him right in the face. 

"Hey—!" Sputtering and swearing, he spat out mouthfuls of soapy water and madly wiped it off his face. 

Beka laughed harder when he'd pulled his hand away. She pointed at him. "You forgot your nose." She howled. Harper glared and wiped a little cluster of suds off his nose.

Beka finally stopped laughing and wiped the tears and water off her cheeks. Sighing, she looked at herself and then at Harper.

"Well, if we told anybody we were doing the dishes, I don't think anybody would doubt us." 

Harper burst out laughing as he looked at her and himself. They were both soaking wet, covered in soap suds, with large puddles forming on the floor and creeping across the floor under the table.

Beka put her hands on her hips and bit her lip as she stared at the sink. "Now, we still have to finish these dishes, but—we can't do them unless we get rid of all of these soap suds first. I can't scrub anything with all this crap in here. The only question is: What do we do with them?"

She glanced at Harper. They stared at each other, before smiled tugged on the corners of their lips and they both raised their eyebrows.

Moments later, they lunged for the sink, grabbed handfuls of suds and started throwing them at each other.

Laughing, they threw suds, splashed water on each other and grabbed dirty and clean dishes and used them as shovels to get the other one even wetter.

Harper ducked behind the table as Beka threw a glassful of water at him. She gave a little cry of dismay when she realized she'd missed. Just then, Harper ran around the table, grabbed a handful of soap suds and threw them at her before she recovered. 

Swearing, laughing and spitting out mouthful's of soap, Beka splashed handfuls of water on Harper, who laughed and tried to duck out of the way.

There were so many things I wanted to scold them for. Number one, soapy water and my floor didn't make a good mix. There are wires and pipes underneath my floors, and they were never meant to be assaulted by soapy water. Number two, they'd both catch colds if they continued throwing water on each other. Number three, water and soap is not meant to be thrown all around a kitchen, but is meant to stay in a sink.

Oh, I have such an impossible crew. Somebody out there has got to feel sorry for me.

But then again, watching the two of them darting around the kitchen, sliding across the floor, wrestling to get closer to the sink and all the while, laughing hysterically, I find myself that anybody who feels sorry for me is insane.

I love my impossible crew and always will. Craziness and all.


	19. Chapter 19

The Diaries 

Chapter 19

Hey people! I'm so sorry that this is so late. I couldn't get on the stupid site and then I had to leave for two weeks…it's been a mess. Anyway, I had these chapters written quite a while ago (Paris got a sneak peek so she's already read them) so I put them up now. I'm doing some more tonight so there's going to be more really soon. Hope you like it!

Database Records Archive: 46 (10084)

Specific Time: A week later, in the middle of the night

Once more, my clocks have ticked by until the time came which human beings have decided will be their time for sleep. In more human terms, it was night time.

I was running diagnostics on all of my major systems, slogging through data feedback and doing a million scans and downloading the data which Beka would read tomorrow.

From time to time, I would quickly do a sweep with my external sensors. Normally I wouldn't bother, but when we're docked on crappy gambling drifts such as the always pleasant Santa Marianas drift, I take the precaution and do a quick scan. You wouldn't believe the strange characters that creep around drifts like this in the middle of the night.

After scanning around and making sure that everybody was doing something other than getting too close to me, I went back to my system scans.

Just as I was about to reroute the majority of my processors drive back to the scans, I caught a small movement just outside my airlock.

Shoving the scans out of my processors, I diverted all of my attention to my sensors and zoomed in. Just outside my airlock, I spied a small, dark clothed figure crouching on the floor of the berth I was docked in.

He was running his hands along the bottom of my airlock. From long years of experience, I knew what he was doing. As all experienced thieves did, he was checking to make sure my airlock didn't have an alarm. Typically, the little scanning device which would trip the alarm was put on the bottom of the airlock, and because of crappy designs, the edge of the scanner always poked out a little bit. Basically, any thief could just run his or her hand along the edge of my airlock. If a whining sound filled the air, that means the alarm was set off and the thief ran like the hell the other way. If nothing happened and the night remained deathly quiet, the thief would smile—just like this little bastard was doing right now—and get a lot more casual about stealing from me. Oh why, oh why can't we afford to get a decent alarm system installed? Hell, I was willing to let my captain mortage me if that meant I could get an alarm system and keep my crew safe at night. 

The little bastard was now running his hands along my walls, probably looking for a way in other than my airlock. 

Please don't let him see my cargo hold, please don't let him see my cargo hold. These thoughts hummed through my processors as I nervously watched him looking around my hull. That tell-tale smile flashed across his face when he spied the cargo hold. Damn it.

He started climbing up my hull, pulling himself up and crawling upwards. Watching him, I couldn't help but notice Harper was a lot better at climbing up walls. My engineer looked a lot more graceful doing it. This guy was obviously an amateur. An amateur not at stealing but at walking up the walls. His big clunky boots slid all over the place and he lost his grip with them a few times and was left hanging by a ledge, his legs swinging wildy all over the place. He was dressed in black from head to toe and he was even wearing black leather gloves. Yeah, as if wearing dark clothes would really prevent me from seeing him. I scoffed. He obviously didn't know I was 'impressive'. 

When he reached my cargo hold and had forced open the door—with a lot more noise that my previous night time visitors had—he winced at the loud creak, but then ignored it and decided that being fast was more important than being quiet.

Pulling a long rope out of the large black duffel bag he had slung over his shoulder, he tied it to the open door and threw it down. Squinting through the darkness, he finally grabbed the rope and slowly lowered himself inside. When he'd quietly dropped to the ground, he pulled out a little box-like device and fastened it to the bottom of the rope. I zoomed in closer and adjusted my internal sensors slightly. It was one of those self-scrolling things. Don't ask me what they're really called. It's a little box that immediately gets turned on when you step on it and it zooms up the rope and pulls it inside, neatly rolling it up. It was a very handy device for thieves who needed to make a quick get-away and didn't want to waste time pulling up the rope and untangling it. Well, this little bastard wasn't any good at seeing through the dark or at climbing up walls and jumping off of high places, but he had some very professional toys.

Realizing that I was about to be robbed by a professional, I immediately set to work on Plan B. Andromeda interupts me and asks what Plan A was. I try not to roll my eyes. High Guard ships. So damn picky about everything.

Plan A is always the faint hope that the thieves will chicken out at the last minute and decide that I'm not a worthy target and leave me alone. Andromeda interupts again and says that from a warship's point of view, that's the worst strategic plan she had ever heard of. I retort back that when one doesn't have an AI you can't depend on yourself to solve the problem, so you depend on other people to solve it for you, even if those are the very people who started it.

As the little bastard crept towards the ladder in the cargo hold, I knew he was going straight for my cockpit or my engine room to strip them. I had seen this scenario play out way too many times not to know how much financial and emotional damage these damn thieves leave behind.

I started Plan B. Slightly diverting my attention from the little bastard sneaking down my corridor, I went to work trying to get my captain's attention. 

I tried initiating a massive system failure. The whining blaring which always tore through my corridors when a system went psycho would surely wake her. But that plan soon failed. All of my damn systems were locked up, the diagnostic still running. Even if I tried, I couldn't stop the diagnostic. Years ago, my diagnostics would take about a week to complete, since my scans would continuously break down and I would have to start over. To solve this problem, Vex had installed a little firewall which prevented anyone and anything, including me, from interupting the diagnostic. Damn. So that option was out.

Next, I tried overloading my AP tanks, but that didn't work either. This stupid safety mechanism the old captain had installed prevented the overload by simply rerouting the excess fluid to another tank. Even I couldn't override the safety mechanism. Damn. That option was out too. 

As I watched the little bastard passing the kitchen and nearing the crew quarters and the engine room, I grew desperate. Thoughts of battered systems, dismantled engines, torn out consoles, ripped wires and damaged circuits whirled through my processors. Memories surfaced. Old data records of the resulting tears, cursing, desperation, and the quest of looking for a half decent little backwater hole which would enable my desperate crew to buy crappy, rusted old parts and try to replace what was lost. These thoughts were too much for me. The last thing my barely healed captain needed right now as more heartache. 

Pushing aside the nagging in the back of my processors about dangers and long term damage, I was about to start sucking the oxygen out of the engine room. At least the engine room would be spared. There was no way in hell I was letting anybody get my slipstream drive. Not only was it my slipstream drive—enough said there—but it was the very same one which the old captain had built more than twenty years ago. 

I was so busy trying to come up with half decent, half crazy ideas which would let me save myself and my crew that I hardly noticed the fact that not my entire crew was fast asleep.

Harper was awake.

He hadn't moved and hadn't made a single sound for the past ten minutes, and the only physical difference I noticed was the fact that in one moment, his eyes were closed, and in the next, they had flown open. 

He had heard the little bastard almost as fast as I had seen him. Harper lay there, not moving a muscle and not saying a word. He continued breathing deeply and to anybody else, appeared to be sleeping. His entire body looked asleep, except for his eyes. 

Wary, watchful eyes followed the quiet shuffle and scamper of feet up my walls and over his head into the cargo hold. He continued lying there, listening to the rope falling to the floor and the small hiss as the thief slid down and landed on the metal floor with a small thud.

As soon as he heard the thud, he must have realized what the person had come for. Not taking his eyes off the roof from where the light shuffle of squeaky boots drifted down, one of his hands snaked down and grabbed his knife from his pant leg. 

Pulling his arm back up, he put the handle into his mouth, keeping the blade facing away from himself. He had told Beka that this way he could use both of his hands and have his knife close by, and if anybody tried to grab the knife from him, they'd hit the sharp blade and think twice before reaching for it again.

He moved his jaw a tiny bit, shifting the knife around and making it more comfortable and lowered his hands to his sides. Then he lay still, listening and waiting. Harper hardly ever used his eyes to see. He used his senses to see.

He quietly sniffed the air, probably trying to see if he was up against a male or a female and what race he or she were. After one sniff, he continued his unwavering silence, having figured out everything he needed to know. Tyr's sense of smell has nothing on Harper's. 

He listened to the quiet footsteps creeping along the floor and pause slightly in front of the kitchen. Quiet breathing drifted down the corridor. I heard a tinge of nervousness in that breathing. From the thin film of sweat covering the little bastards pale face, I could tell this wasn't a walk in the park for him. Good. Let him be scared.

Harper kept on breathing normally, and if the little bastard would have poked his head into the crew quarters, he probably couldn't have been paid enough to believe Harper was awake.

When the footsteps resumed and slowly made their way towards the crew quarters and the engine room, Harper made his move.

Realizing that I couldn't warn Beka and my captain was too deep of a sleeper to notice anything, he decided to help me out. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Harper. What I would do without you, I really don't know. Not having an AI is suddenly not so big of a problem as it used to be. You don't only understand people without them having to say a word, you understand machines too. 

Rolling over slightly, he grabbed the underside of his bunk and hung with his head down, his legs still on the bed. Gripping the knife between his teeth, he suddenly swung his legs over his head and slowly lowered them to the floor.

Only when his feet had touched the floor did he let go of the bunk. Well, my engineer was not only brilliant, he was also extremely flexible. Years later, he told Rommie that it was a lot easier to be quiet when you don't drag yourself around and stomp all over the place. Walking on your hands, slithering along the ground without moving your legs or your arms and all sorts of amazingly weird acrobatic stunts were the many ways my engineer could go pretty much anywhere he wanted without making a sound. Don't ask me where he learns these things from.

Turning around, he stared through the darkness, his eyes glowing dimly in the dark. The light from the corridor glimmered on the dull blade in his mouth. 

He stopped breathing for a minute, still accustomed to sneaking around under Nietzschean noses. When he heard the footsteps in the corridor slowing down slightly, he knew that the other person must have sensed the fact that something was wrong.

Turning to the hook beside the door on which he kept Vex's toolbelt, Harper quietly fished out a little metal laser. Putting it into his pocket, he went to the doorway and crouched down, holding his breath, the knife just as silent and unmoving as the rest of him. 

By a thin stroke of luck, my cooling devices chose that moment to kick in. The usual whirring and swooshing sound from behind my walls started up. My thief heard the unexpected noise and spun around, his breaths catching in his throat and his heart pounding. Eyes widening, he stared down the corridor, momentarily turned away from the crew quarters and the engine room.

Harper chose that moment to act. Crouching down, he glanced up at the many pipes zig zagging across the ceiling of the corridor. Taking a deep, quiet breath and licking his lips, he leapt up and grabbed hold of the pipes. Without a sound, he hocked his legs around the pipes and spun himself around until he was hanging on my ceiling, staring down at the corridor, his arms and legs hocked in the pipes. Normally, the thought of anybody hanging from my precious pipes would have alarmed me, but Harper weighed less than a fly and wouldn't cause any damage, even if he wanted to.

I couldn't help but wonder over what the hell he was doing. How was hanging on my ceiling, with a knife between his teeth going to help prevent my engine room and cockpit from being stripped? Finally deciding that there was absolutely nothing I could do, and worrying only shorted out my environmental controls, I went back to running my diagnostics and keeping a very careful eye on my internal sensors. I had complete faith in Harper, but I was still curious as to how he was going to go about doing anything. I had scanned the thief's muscle build up and his height, and not only was he a good four inches taller than Harper—but hell, who isn't?—but he was a lot stronger than he was too.

Worry crept up on me again. I hoped that Harper wouldn't try to attack him on his own. But, as he would prove later, Harper could take care of himself, even when faced with opponents bigger and stronger than himself.

The little bastard finally realized that my cooling system wouldn't leap out and kill him, and he bravely turned back around and continued his creeping towards my engine room, not noticing the person hanging on the ceiling.

Harper didn't move as he warily watched the thief walking down the corridor. As he came closer, Harper went back to holding his breath. Even though he looked horribly uncomfortable, he didn't move and didn't take those mistrusting, glowing eyes off of him. 

Finally when the thief was directly underneath him, Harper reached down with one hand and pulled the little metal laser out of his pocket. I was just about to ask myself what in the world he was going to do with a laser, when he lightly threw it down the corridor towards the kitchen where the little scared bastard had come from.

When the laser hit my metal floor, the noise wasn't loud enough to wake Beka or to sound intentional, but it was loud enough to scare the crap out of my darling thief.

He gasped quietly and his eyes widened with fear as he whipped around, staring down the corridor, trying to see through the darkness.

As soon as his back was turned, Harper unhocked his legs and arms from the pipes and dropped onto him without a sound.

Harper landed on him at a slight angle, and he wasn't heavy enough to throw the taller and stronger man over. Harper paused for a second, wrapping his legs around the thief's arms and then slammed his elbow into the back of his neck.

The surprised gasp which had brought tremors of fear through the guy's body turned into a dull yelp of pain and he collapsed onto the floor, taking Harper down with him.

As they crashed onto the floor with a dull thud, Harper wrapped one hand into the guys hair and kept his face down and grabbed his knife with the other hand. His eyes were glowing dangerously with that blank look in them. 

I shuddered. This was the very reason I never wished for my worst enemy to try to steal from us when Harper was here.

I couldn't help but wonder why Harper had his legs tangled in the guys arms in such a way that prevented the guy from moving his arms in any way. Finally, I realized why. Harper was used to fighting with people whose arms weren't harmless and smooth. This was his simple way of keeping those deadly sharp bone blades away from him. I've heard those blades can cut through someone like a Magog. 

Terrified, heavy breathing laced with perspiration drifted upwards as the body underneath Harper trembled with fear.

Harper leaned over slightly and yanked the guy's hair, pulling his head up. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, huh? Going to strip the engine room, huh? Well, I bet you weren't thinking that there was someone on this ship who could hear every breath you took, never mind what wires you ripped out." Harper laughed quietly, the laugh hard and dangerous. "No, you didn't think about that, did you? Well, this is what you get for trying to steal machine parts from people who don't like being stolen from." He hissed in a whisper.

With that, he shoved his hand downwards, slamming the thief's face into the metal grating. The sick crunch of bones breaking and a painfilled yelp drifted upwards. Harper yanked his head back up again and held his knife against the shaking, pale throat. 

"Now, you want to live to see tomorrow, you ain't gonna make a sound, you hear me? There's someone on this ship who'd like to have a goodnights sleep. If you wake her up, this is gonna be the night of your worst nightmares." He whispered, and slammed the pale, sweaty face back against the floor. Blood streamed down the man's face from his broken nose and he was shaking violently, from fear or pain, or both.

A little hiss and a grunt of pain tore out of his throat, but asides from that, he didn't make a sound.

Harper leaned down again. "Now, on the count of three, I'm gonna get up, and you's gonna get your stinking, ugly face over to that ladder and get off this ship."

The man licked his bleeding lips and clenched his jaw. "And what if I don't?" he whispered, hardly moving his mouth when he talked, still feeling the pressure of Harper's knife against his throat. 

Harper smiled. It reminded me of a skull's smile. Emptiness and blankness with hidden promises of death. It was terrifying.

"Then I slit your throat right here and right now, and then I'll dump you into the boiler for an extra treat."

Fear drenched silence followed this, as the man's dark, terrified eyes darted around the corridor. He obviously realized Harper wasn't joking. 

Finally, he gave a small nod.

Harper slowly counted to three, and then slammed the guy's head into the floor one last time before untangling his legs and scrambling off of him. Only when he was a good meter or so away from him did Harper push himself off of the floor. He never took his eyes off the shaking, bleeding mess on the floor.

Patiently, Harper waited, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the corridor. 

The thief finally groaned from dull, throbbing pain and pushed himself off the floor. Slinking his empty duffel bag over his shoulder, he wiped a shaking hand over his face, wincing when he accidently brushed past his broken nose. 

Running a hand through his sweat streaked hair, he shuffled down the corridor towards the ladder.

Harper followed him, keeping a few paces behind him and never taking his wary eyes off of him. 

Before reaching the ladder, the thief kicked the little metal laser lying on the floor. Glancing down, he raised an eyebrow and bent down to pick it up.

Harper came to a stop behind him and hissed at him to keep on moving. 

Ignoring him, the man picked it up and slowly turned around to hand it to Harper, his own way of showing him that he had lost and Harper was won. Holding it out in front of him, he turned around and held it out to Harper.

Harper took a wary step back when the tall man turned around, but his breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened when he saw the light glinting off of a shiny, metal object in the guy's hand.

Leaping backwards, Harper grabbed his knife in his hand and pulled it back behind his head and hurled it forward with deadly accuracy and an air of long practice.

Seconds later, the knife buried itself into the man's throat. His eyes widening, the surprised cry which tore from his throat quickly turned into a blood soaked gurgle. He dropped the laser and his hands went up to his throat. Wrapping a shaking hand around the handle, he was about to pull the knife out, when he staggered and his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he crashed onto the floor. I ran a quick scan. He was already dead before he hit the floor.

I stared at the dead body lying in our corridors. A stream of dark blood ran down his pale throat, mixing with the pale film of sweat which covered his face and throat. 

I stared at the dead man's throat, in which Harper's knife still stuck, having hit it's target with an accuracy that both surprised and horrified me. 

Suddenly, Harper's words came back to me. 

_"Relax boss. __I can throw a knife and nail someone square in the throat from ten yards away. I figure I can chuck a cookie carton two meters away onto a counter and not miss."_

I realized with a sickening lurch that he hadn't been joking. 

Harper stood there, staring down at the body lying before him with a blank, indifferent look on his face. 

There wasn't any shaking, there wasn't any dismayed gasping and crying, nothing. Absolutely nothing. He cocked his head to the side and stared down at the still body.

He shrugged at it. "See? Told you I'd slit your throat if you didn't get out. Ain't my fault you didn't listen." He mumbled, shrugging again.

Suddenly, the whine of the safety being torn off of a gun drifted down the corridor. Beka was slowly creeping along the corridor dressed in her boxers and her shirt, her gun being held rock steady in her hands. She had woken up a few minutes ago when the thief's body had crashed to the floor. Her hand had immediately gone for her gun and she'd thrown her covers off and had crept down the corridor to see what was going on.

She squinted as she came closer to the two figures at the end of the corridor, trying to see if Harper was the person standing up, or the person lying on the floor.

When she realized that Harper was okay, she let out a relieved sigh and lowered her gun. 

"Harper! Thank god! Are you alright?" she called, hurrying up to him and looking him up and down.

Harper waved off her concern. "I's fine, boss. Don't worry 'bout it. I ain't even have a scratch on me."

Nodding and shaking slightly from pent up worry and anxiety, she brushed a lock of hair off her face. Looking Harper up and down one last time, she only had eyes for her crew and completely ignored the body lying on the floor behind Harper.

Only when Harper started squirmed under her unwavering scrutiny, did she glimpse the corpse lying on the floor.

With a horrified gasp, her hand flew up to her mouth and she nearly dropped her gun. Face paling and eyes widening she stared down at the body.

"Oh, my god! What the hell is that?" she cried out, her voice shaking. Moments later, she regained her common sense and she jerked her gun up, not realizing yet that the person was dead.

Harper gently pushed her gun down. "It's okay, boss. He's dead." He said simply and then yawned and stretched. "Man, I'm tired."

Beka lowered her gun with numb hands, staring at the body with horrified eyes. Slowly, she forced her gaze over to Harper.

"Harper—what—Harper—who?"

Harper raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Beka stared at him. She pointed at the body behind him. "What do you mean 'what'? There's a body lying in my corridor and you don't know what I'm talking about?" she cried, horror and frusteration making her patience fray.

Harper blinked once and then glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, that. Yeah. Stupid piece of crap wanted to strip the engine room and the cockpit for parts. I caught him and tried to make him leave, but he pulled a knife on me so I finished him off." He yawned again and shrugged at Beka's horrified face expression. "Stupid asshole was asking for it. You ain't pull a knife on someone when they's behind you."

With that, Harper went over to the body and pulled his knife out of the man's throat. Beka nearly gagged at the sight and turned away. Harper stared down at the bloody knife for a minute before shrugging and wiping it clean on the man's shirt. Then he promptly stuck it into his pant leg, absolutely indifferent to the fact that he had just pulled that knife out of the person he had killed.

Gathering her wits about her and pushing Harper's cold hearted reaction out of her mind, she glanced around the floor.

"Where's the knife?" she asked.

"I just stuck it back into my pants."

"No, I mean the knife he pulled on you."

Harper waved a hand around. "Somewhere around here. He dropped it when I nailed him."

Beka squinted as she looked around herself. Not seeing a knife, her gaze finally landed on the small, metal laser which had rolled across the floor into a corner.

Walking over to it, she crouched down and frowned as she picked it up. Slowly, she turned around and held it out to Harper.

"Was this the knife?" she asked.

Harper glanced at her outstretched hand and did a double take when he saw the laser. For a split second, it looked like a tiny flicker of emotion would creep across that blank face, but it was gone almost before it came.

He shrugged. "Well, better safe than sorry. Stupid guy shouldn't have waved it around when he turned on me."

Beka slowly shook her head, not understand how he couldn't care. "Harper—"

Harper held up his hands. "Look, I's already told you. It's better safe than sorry. Ain't my fault I didn't see what the guy was holding. If I would have played the nice guy and waited to see what the hell he was holding, I could be lying on the floor 'stead of him." He shrugged. 

"Life's a selfish bitch, boss. Get used to it."

With that, he turned and walked back to the crew quarters, leaving Beka staring after him in confusion and horror, clutching the little metal laser in her hand.

Database Records Archive: 47 (10088)

The next day, Beka flew me away from the drift. After two hours of flying around aimlessly, I jettisoned the thief's body into space. The entire time, Beka never said a word to Harper, and Harper acted as though he had forgotten about it altogether.

Database Records Archive: 48 (10084)

Specific Time: Two days later

For the past ten minutes, I have been watching my captain yelling, screaming, and swearing at my engineer, who has sat there with that blank look on his face and has shrugged at every one of her questions. 

Beka threw her hands into the air and slammed them onto the table, glowering at the person sitting hunched over on his chair, staring holes into the table.

"Harper, what the hell is it going to take to make you understand?"

He glared and shrugged. 

Beka swore and slammed a fist onto the table. She pointed a shaking finger at him. "One more shrug and I'm going to jettison you, understood?"

Harper didn't look at her, but slowly nodded.

Beka bit her lip and started over. "Now, I'll say this one more time, and if you don't listen to me, I swear, I'm going to chuck you out on the next rock we pass by."

He didn't say a word.

"Harper, I'll say it as bluntly and as clearly as I can. If you kill someone—even if it was in self defense—then you can't just not care about it."

Harper glared. "Sure you's can." He mumbled.

"No, you can't. Damn it, Harper! You murdered that thief—"

"Was defending myself."

"Bullshit. You could have fought him, you didn't have to kill him."

Suddenly, Harper seemed to snap. His head jerked up and he glared at her, his eyes simmering with anger. 

"And what I's fought him, huh? Then he would've been the one to slit my throat 'stead of me slitting his. And you really thinks that he would've shed a tear over it? I ain't think so."

"That's not the point, Harper. I don't care about the fact that you killed him. I care about the fact that you completely shut it away somewhere and you don't care about it." She cried, completely frusterated by now.

"And what if I don't, huh?" he yelled, having lost all of his patience with her. "How do you think I's still here? You think I survived twenty years in that hell being all nice and letting everybody step all over me? No, boss. I lied, cheated, stole and killed my way through the years. And you know what? I never gave a damn. Why? Simple. Not only cause they wouldn't have have given a damn either if the situation was turned 'round, but because it didn't matter. Sure, there was a dead corpse lying there on the ground, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that because of that body, I got to live another day."

Beka stared at him, not understanding. "Harper, I don't understand—"

"Course you don't understand! How could you understand? You've never killed anybody over a crumb of bread." He laughed harshly and bitterly. "You call what you do up here survival? It's pathetic. All of it. All of you damn spacers are pathetic and little snivelling cowards. Always crying over everything and talking 'bout your emotions and crap like that. Yeah, as if that's going to help you live another day." He spat. He stood up so fast that he threw his chair over, and then stormed out of the kitchen, ignoring Beka's calls.

He ran to the engine room and hid behind the slipstream drive like always did. 

He sat there amid the tangle of wires and pipes. Hugging his knees to his chest, he rocked back and forth, his jaw clenched, and unshed tears brimming his eyelids. 

He blinked them back, forcing them away. When he realized they wouldn't leave him alone, he swore. With shaking hands, he reached forward and rummaged around until he pulled out a half empty bottle of whisky he had hid away under a pile of old scanners and piles of dust. 

Clenching his jaw and blinking back tears, he drowned his pain in alcohol.

He always dealt with his pain the right way.


	20. Chapter 20

The Diaries 

Chapter 20

Database Records Archive: 49 (10084)

Specific Time: A day later

Beka sat on her bed, leaning against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest. She had been sitting there, darkly staring at her wall for about two hours. Only once did she almost get up when she heard Harper accidently drop something in the kitchen. I checked what it was. He'd dropped a spoon. I wanted to reassure my captain that he was alright, but deep down, I wanted her to get up and see if he was okay.

But she didn't. She bit her lip and glanced worriedly at the doorway, but then scowled and pushed it aside. 

"Who the hell cares if he shots his own foot off? Idiot can take care of himself." She muttered, leaning back against the wall.

I sighed.

It had been like this for the past twenty-four hours. Beka and Harper completely ignored at each other and when they did accidently cross the same path, they'd only glare at each other. Afterwards, they'd both feel bad, but both were too stubborn to try and say the first word and make up for that stupid argument they'd had. So, Harper would go and talk to his whisky bottles and me, and my captain would go her room and talk to her wall and me. 

She bit her lip as she glared at the wall. Curling her hand into a fist, she slammed it onto her blanket, the sound muffled from the soft fabric.

"Why the hell is he being like this, Maru? He was doing so well. I mean, he started trusting me and letting lose a little. For crying out loud, he even let me hug him and we even laughed together. And now, all of a sudden, poof, it's all gone. He's back to being a blank faced, angry and suspicious beast." She sighed. "Damn it." She whispered. 

Reaching up, she ran a weary hand through her hair. "I mean, damn it! We've been doing so well. You know as well as I do that it never looked like we could be friends, but we were. And now it's all gone."

Captain, you know as well as I do what you have to do. Harper is too insecure to say the first word, so you're going to have to do it. Just go and talk to him. Tell him to that you'll forget about the whole thing if he will. 

She sighed. "Maru, I know what you're going to say. You want me to go talk to him. But I can't. You know I can't. I'm never good at that talking stuff, especially with him. If I try to make some small talk, he'll just stare at me like I'm being stupid, which I would be. What else am I supposed to say? That I'm sorry?" she scoffed. "Sorry for what? I didn't do anything. I just said something and he went all ballistic and sensitive over it. If he doesn't want me saying certain things, he should give me a list so this wouldn't happen."

Silence greeted this. Beka, you know he's never going to be the first one to apologize. He doesn't know how to apologize. You have to take the first step and show him how to do it. Come on. Be the Beka I know you are.

"Maru, I can't just do it all by myself. I'm not good at sappy talking and apologizing. Besides, even if I do take the first step, he'll just stare and not say anything. The beast doesn't know how to apologize on his own." She ran her hands along her blanket. "Maru, we can't do this just by ourselves. And I don't mean just solving this little fight. I mean everything. He doesn't know the first thing about salvaging or doing contracts, I mean, he can't even fly you, never mind be helpful. He can fix stuff, sure, but I need someone who knows what they're doing." She glared at the wall. "That way there would at least be someone on board you who knows what they're doing."

She lapsed off into silence, thinking over who she could call up. Beka didn't have that many friends around. Sure, she knew other salvagers and cargo hauler captains and crewmembers and she knew the occasional cargo dealer and our regular clients, but friends wise, she came up quite short. Living on a cargo hauler your entire life—even an impressive one like myself—doesn't leave much opportunity for making many friendships.

Asides from the occasional crewmember who had crewed with us for longer stretches of time, I couldn't come up with anybody who wasn't dumb or didn't have a regular job.

Quickly, I went back and scrolled through old crew lists where Beka kept a record of every single person ever to have walked down my corridors for more than twenty-four hours. 

Tony Cullings. Nope. He and Beka had a fling that ended on rather ugly terms when she found out he was engaged. 

John Mergers. Never mind. That was the one who Beka had thrown off on a nearby drift somewhere after she'd caught him doing nethyl. I remember that. I'd known he was addicted to the crap the moment he stepped onboard and I ran a quick blood analysis on him. I had been silently hoping my captain would notice what he did in the engine room every morning, and after three days, she noticed. Growing up with a drug addicted father with drug addicted friends left my captain with expert abilities at spying all the tale-tell signs there were to see. 

Twinkie Rogers. Scratch that one too. The slimy bastard was lifting spare parts off me from the moment my airlock closed behind him. I'd lost a very expensive console part to him before Beka noticed it's name popping up on a damage report I spat out. She'd smelled something fishy when she realized that the part hadn't been damaged in any way. But, knowing I wasn't dumb, she decided to do some sniffing around, and minutes later, found the part underneath Mr.Rogers' pillow. She'd thrown him off me at the next docking station, not even letting him keep the pillow, despite his whining.

Scanning through the other candidates and realizing that none of them were an option, I was about to go back to sulking with my captain, when a name caught my eye. Reverend Behemial Far Traveller. Of course! 

He'd been one of the first crewmembers to sign on with Beka after the old captain had died. Vex had run into him in one of those garden reserve places some tourist planets had and when Vex had found out the Rev was a scientist and a linguist and had a few medical skills here and there, he invited him to crew on me. Beka had taken an instant liking to the soft spoken, wise Magog monk and Rev had been one of our regular crewmembers for two years and three months before Harper stepped through my airlock. He occasionally left me to go on Wayist reserves, but more than a year ago, he had been invited to open a new Wayist center on a former slave planet somewhere and had enjoyed it so much that he told Beka he was staying for longer to help convert the poor 'unrepented' people  and help them find the way. 

It had been more than a year since he'd left us, and I've missed him. Beka has too, especially after Vex's death. Although his retreats took him away for days and sometimes weeks at a time, Rev Bem had become a permanent part of my crew in nearly the same way Vex had.

Now I started anxiously hoping Beka would remember that she could call Rev to come and stay with us. 

My captain continued blankly staring at the wall, mumbling names to herself and then shaking her head and discarding them—I heard the name 'Twinkie' come up, quickly accompanied by a scowl and a firm shake of her head. 

Come on, Beka. Think of Rev. Come on. I don't want to have to spit up a damage report or hail him for you so you finally remember. 

Finally, the light went on. 

Beka pushed herself off the wall and sat up straight, her eyes widening. "Rev! Of course! Damn, I'm slow." She muttered.

Quickly, she crawled off her bed and tugged an unruly blond curl behind her ear. Padding across the floor in her socks, she hurried towards the cockpit, telling me to hail Rev.

I gladly obliged.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

It took me ten minutes to finally get in touch with the Wayist center which Rev was staying at. The secretary was meditating. I personally found this hilarious, but hey, that's just me. I patiently waited for the flashing busy signal to turn off and for the center's computer to finally connect me with the secretary. I quickly sent over my signal and the secretary answered, his face appearing on my viewscreen.

Beka smiled up at him. "Good afternoon, Reverend. I was wondering if I could talk to a Reverend Behemial Far Traveller."

The man gave her a gentle, wise smile, his eyes seeing straight through her into her very soul. It was the exact same way Rev looked at her. 

The exact same way Harper would sometimes look at people. They saw straight through any phoney façade people put up and could read their souls like an open book.

"Mediation just concluded a few minutes ago so I know he is available. If you can wait for a few minutes, I will go and find him for you."

Beka smiled. "I can wait. Thanks."

Nodding, the man turned around and softly called over for someone to get Reverend Behemial. 

Beka sat in her piloting chair, drumming her fingers on the armrests, her eyes never leaving the viewscreen. She was probably wondering what she was going to say to Rev to convince him to stay with us.

It's alright, captain, I reassured her. I'm here for you.

Moments later, there the was faint sound of cloth robes dragging across the tile floors and the clinking of claws on the smooth, hard surface.

Then Rev's face appeared in the viewscreen. 

The moment he saw who it was, a smile immediately lit his face up. "Rebecca! This is a surprise." He laughed softly, his eyes twinkling the way they always did. 

Beka grinned and relaxed when she saw his familiar face.

"Rev. Good to see you. You're looking good."

Rev bowed in silent thanks for the compliment and briefly closed his eyes. "Thank you, Rebecca. You are also looking well." He looked back up and smiled at her. Even though most people think Rev's smiles are terrifying, I think they are the most reassuring smiles in the universe. Beka thinks so too. That smile always told you things would always turn out okay at the end, no matter how bad things got. 

Not quite knowing how to approach the subject, my captain did what she does best; engaging in idle chit chat and wasting time until she could finally steer the conversation onto the right path.

Right away, Rev sensed Beka was beating around the bush and only put up with her useless chatter long enough to smile and gently ask her what she really came for.

Pressing her lips together, Beka glanced down at my floor before finally looking up at Rev and clearing her throat.

"What I really came here for is to ask—and beg if I have to—for you to come back. I need you Rev."

Rev looked at her. "Does this have anything to do with Vex's death—may his soul rest eternally in the Divine's keeping?"

Beka frowned for a moment. "How do you know—?"

Rev waved it away. "You wouldn't believe how quickly news travels in Wayist circles." He cleared his throat and sadness clouded his eyes. "I was very sorry to hear of Vex's death. He meant a lot to me. We were good friends."

Beka nodded, looking like a mechanical doll as she desperately tried to keep her tears at bay. Come on, Beka. Stay strong. I'm here for you.

A part of her looked like it wanted to break down in tears and share with Rev their mutual grief over the loss of a person they had loved nearly equally, but another part of her knew that this was neither the time nor place. 

Clearing her throat and blinking back tears, she looked up at Rev. Rev also realized that this was not the time nor the place to grieve for his lost and loved friend. He gave Beka another smile. 

"Why is your decision so sudden? Rebecca, you know that whenever you need me, I'll be here for you. But is there a particular reason behind you asking me to come back?"

Beka gave him a thin smile. "There's a very good reason, Rev, and it's not me. It's another crewmember."

Rev frowned. "Another crewmember?"

"Yup. Do you want the long story or the short story?"

Rev leaned forward. "This intrigues me. Usually there isn't a story behind new crewmembers. What makes this one so special?"

Beka gave a hollow laugh. "I doubt you really want to know. I'll give it to you in a nut shell. His name is Harper, he's an earthling and I leased him out for five years. End of story."

I have never seen a speechless Magog before in my entire existence. That afternoon, I saw my first one. Rev stared at her as if Beka had suddenly announced she wanted to sell me. I shuddered. What a horrible thought. We won't even go there.

 Rev momentarily found his voice. "You _what_?"

Beka waved a dismissive hand. "I told you, Rev, it's a long story. He's been here for more than  a year now. He's a pain in the ass, frustrates and angers me beyond belief and his social skills were scrapped out of a dump, I swear. But anyway, that's not the point." She sighed. "Rev, after Vex died, I've had nobody here who really knows how to run things around here. Harper's an awesome engineer, but he doesn't even know how to read, never mind how to negotiate contracts or make arrangements with clients. That's why I need you Rev. It's only one of the reasons, but it's the more urgent one."

"What's the other reason?"

Beka sighed and laughed quietly. "The other reason is the much harder and much more complicated one. I would tell you know, but I think you'll change your mind and refuse to come back if I tell you."

Rev smiled. "Try me, Rebecca. Besides, if it is as horrific as you make it out to be, several lightyears still separate us. That gives me more than enough time to run away if you decide to chase me down against my will."

Beka smiled briefly but wasn't really paying attention, trying to find the best way to describe Harper.

"The other problem is with Harper. I mean, the shorty is great. Stubborn as hell, annoying and downright frightening at times, but deep down, he's a good kid. He's been through a lot and it shows. You know, at the beginning, I didn't think I would ever be able to draw him out of that little shell he keeps himself inside of and I didn't think he'd ever stop being a paranoid, tense mess, but in the last few months, he's really improved. I mean, he lets me hug him, we laugh together and he even sleeps on his mattress for crying out loud—"

Rev raised his eyebrows over that one. Beka waved it aside.

"Don't ask about that last one. It requires a lot of explanation, but anyway, just trust me when I say that things improved. I hate to say it, but somehow Vex's death brought us closer together."

Rev nodded. "People with nothing in common often find that grief is something they can share and sharing and healing each other's grief is a way they connect. It's perfectly normal."

Beka gave him a smile, relaxing slightly. Deep down, she had always thought that Vex's death helped bring her and Harper closer together, but she thought that this was too morbid to ever say outloud. Now her fears were laid to rest.

"So, anyway, things have been going well. But then just randomnly, he'll explode into these fits for no reason—"

"There is a good reason behind every 'fit', Rebecca."

Beka scowled. "Well whatever the reasons are, I don't see them or understand them. Anyway, they got more and more frequent and now we're basically back to square one. He won't talk to me, he gives me those damn blank looks, and he drinks like there's no tomorrow. At least he doesn't flinch when I touch him, he just glares, but who knows how long it'll be until we're back to that? And that's what I'm worried about Rev. Harper needs something that I don't know how to give him and it's pulling him back into that shell of his. And I don't want that."

Rev stared at her, a small smile on his face. "You really do care about this one, don't you?"

Beka scowled. "That's not the point. Rev, will you come and stay with us? Not only do I need you, but I have a feeling that Harper might too. Hell, I don't know if you coming will make things better or worse, but at least we'd have tried."

Rev studied her carefully for a few moments, before nodding. "Of course I'll come, Beka. I always promised you that I will be by your side when you needed me, and that is what I'm going to do. Now, I'll need a couple of days until I can get a replacement flown in here and tidy up everything, but if you can wait for a few days, I'll contact you and tell you when you, Harper and the Maru can pick me up."

A smile spread across my captain's face, as if she had harbored real doubts behind Rev agreeing to stay.

"Oh, thank you, Rev. Thank you. I knew I could count on you."

Rev bowed. "Just as I know I can always count on you. I will contact you in a few days."

With that, Rev cut off my connection, already half turned around to speak with the secretary about contacting a Reverend Cornicov and asking him how soon he could get here. When the secretary wanted to know why Rev had to leave in such a hurry, Rev gave him a smile and told him it was urgent family business.

Database Records Archive: 50

Specific Time: 3 days later

My captain and Rev are sitting in my kitchen, quietly talking. The reverend had arrived about ten minutes ago and Beka had told me to engage auto-pilot. Currently, I was fighting my way through the atmosphere and was trying to reach normal space, while my captain and Rev were catching up on old times and Harper was sitting in the engineering room, pretending to be busy.

When Beka had told him that a new—rather, an old—crewmember would be staying with us, he'd just stared at her with that blank look, not saying anything. When Beka had raised an eyebrow and wanted to know what he thought about that, he just shrugged and kept on staring at her. Beka had sighed and quietly asked him to cooperate with her. Harper had been on the verge of shrugging again, but then just mumbled: "She's your ship, and she ain't mine. You can have anybody you wants on her. Don't matter what I think." That last comment had pissed my captain off, but before she could start argueing about that, Harper had shrunk away from her and had quietly faded into the kitchen, leaving her standing in the corridor. Throwing her hands up into the air, Beka swore and muttered a quiet prayer that Rev would hurry up and get here soon. 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

"I just don't understand the little beast. I mean, I've given him everything I could and he just gives me blank stares and shrugs and that 'I-don't-give-a-damn-about-anybody-except-for-myself' attitude. It drives me nuts. I mean, what the hell do I have to do? Don't get me wrong Rev. It's not like I want him to spill his life story or anything—god, I don't even want to hear it—but I just want to go back to that weird easy going trust thing we had going on."

Rev traced a scratch on the table with his claw. He mulled over what Beka had told him. 

Tilting his head, he looked at her. "Rebecca, these things take time. Trust takes a lot of time to build, especially with a person who obviously isn't used to trusting people."

Beka scowled. "But he did trust me! I mean, we laughed together and we had good times. And then he'd have these stupid fits and now we're back to square one."

"I forgot to mention that this trust you have built with him is also extremely fragile. It's not an easy trust to maintain."

My captain rolled her eyes. "It's been more than a year Rev—"

"And how many years did you tell me he spent on earth? You can't just make up for twenty years of heartache with a few months of friendliness."

Beka waved that aside. "Asides from that, why the hell is it 'hard to maintain'?" she demanded, mimicing Rev's words. "I know tons of people who grew to trust me after just a few weeks."

Rev smiled slightly. "Yes, but those trusts were built on a solid foundation of family, money or reputation. This trust is built on absolutely nothing but friendship. Beka, friendships don't exist where he comes from. On planets like that, life is a long cycle of give and take. There is no sharing. And friendship is based on sharing. Sharing laughter, sharing pain, sharing memories, sharing life."

Beka scowled and opened her mouth to retort an answer, but then his words sank in and she lapsed into silence. A trust built on nothing but friendship. I don't think either Beka nor Harper had ever had that before. 

"How the hell do I make a friendship out of nothing? I've been trying here, Rev, but the minute I think we're actually going somewhere, it all blows up in my face."

Rev frowned. "You mentioned these 'fits' he has. Why does he have them? Or rather, when does he have them?"

My captain shrugged. "Completely random times. I'd drop a dish and shrug it off, and he'd blow up saying that I shouldn't just shrug it off. Then I'd get pissed off when something happens and he doesn't seem to care and then he blows up saying that I don't get it." She threw up her hands. "I mean, what can't I get? He's human isn't he?"

Rev folded his hands and lightly rested his chin on them. "Beka, I don't want to side with Master Harper here, but I'm afraid that he's right."

"About what?"

"To put it in his terms, you don't 'get it'."

Beka scowled. "I told you Rev, what's not to get?"

"Beka, you're forgetting something here. Yes, Harper is human, but he is an earther and you are a spacer. The societies you grew up in are vastly different not only in sleeping habits, eating habits and social skills, but also in general behavior."

Beka stared at him, not understanding. 

"Let me give you an example." He glanced around, trying to find some inspiration, before his gaze landed on a few dishes lying beside the sink. "Ahh, there we go. You mentioned he had a 'fit' when you broke a dish and you just shrugged it off. Now, did you ask him why it bothered him so much?"

"I tried. He hardly let me get a word in. But at least I understood why he was so upset—"

Rev pointed a claw at her. "You see, Rebecca, there lies the key to this whole mess."

Beka and I were both lost. "What?"

"Beka, to put it bluntly, you don't understand. You don't understand why Harper does the things he does, why he thinks the things he thinks and why he acts the way he acts. You can't possibly understand. The same way Harper—as you mentioned earlier—didn't understand why we eat with utentils when it is considered perfectly acceptale and easier on earth to just use your hands. He didn't pretend to understand, he plainly told you he didn't 'get it', so you explained it to him."

Beka was still lost. "What the hell does this have to do with?"

"Beka, do you honestly understand why Harper was so upset about that dish breaking? Do you honestly understand why Harper never cried or expressed any grief over Vex's death? No, you don't. You couldn't. And that's where the key to this whole mess lies. If you continue to pretend you understand something you have no idea about—having grown up where you're grown up—then Harper will just get upset and you won't get anywhere. You need to make him explain things to to you when you don't understand them the same way you explain things to him when he doesn't understand something. You have to share your understanding."

He gave her a gentle smile. "I know it isn't easy, but Rebecca, earthers and spacers were never meant to even see each other, never mind live together. There's a good reason our two societies are kept separate."

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

While my captain was talking to Rev in the kitchen, my other crewmember was slowly sinking into a frenzied panic attack. 

Harper had been tinkering around with little bits of wires and other spare parts, which had been lying around my engineering room for no other reason than their previous handlers had been too lazy to clean them up. It didn't take an idiot to realize that my engineer didn't want to meet this new crewmember. Another new person to be afraid of because they would never say what they wanted from him. Another new person who smiled too much. Another new spacer. 

When he heard my airlock whine shut, his ears immediately perked up and he crept closer to my door, trying to listen. He frowned as he stopped breathing and leaned even closer, trying to hear what the new crewmember sounded like. I tried cutting off my internal sensors to the kitchen and focused in with my sensors in engineering and tried to imitate Harper. Try as I might, I couldn't make out the garbled words and occasional bits of laughter which drifted through the door. Even though Harper's hearing was exceptionally sharp, I doubted he could hear better than my sensors could 'hear'. My sensors are top-notch quality. May I remind you that I am 'impressive'?

Andromeda interupts me here to sigh and ask me to keep on going and refrain from continuously interupting the record for my 'ego-boosting obnoxious comments'. _Obnoxious comments_?! She should talk. I'm not a Glorious Heritage Cruiser. 

Alright, alright. I'll be quiet.

Harper swore quietly when he discovered that he could only make out Beka's loud exclamations which drowned out Rev's soft spoken words and laughter. He finally abandoned that and turned back to the pile of spare parts. 

He crouched down beside them and started sifting through them. He'd lift up occasional pieces of bent, broken wires or metal and he'd curiously stare at it and lightly run his fingers across it, trying to figure out what it once was. I examined the pieces with him and ran a quick scan on them from time to time and told him what they were once part of, but of course he didn't hear me.

He had just put down a broken piece of green plastic which had belonged to the old cover of my  previous oxygen tank dial. Suddenly, his head jerked up and he sniffed the air.

Turning to the door, he sniffed the air again. 

His eyes widened as he recognized the musky smell of a Magog pelt. His fingers dropped the piece of plastic and he twisted around, still crouching on the floor. Staring at the door with wide eyes, he slowly started shaking his head. This was either to push back old hidden memories or to try and feebly convince himself that this was not happening. 

His face paled and he started shaking from fear as he stared at the door and quietly sniffed the air again. His keen sense of smell didn't fail him and he must have realized that there really was a Magog on board.

Biting his trembling lips, he huddled in a small ball, hugged his knees and stared at the door, his eyes wide and petrified. His eyes were glowing that strange way in which they always glowed when he was afraid. 

He remained like that, slowly rocking back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering quietly, before he realized that the Magog would hear him and he swallowed, forcing himself to be quiet.

Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from rattling, he stared around himself wide eyed, trying to think through his fear.

Shaking hands let go of his knees and he fumbled around with the bottom of his pants until he pulled out his knife. He never took his terrified eyes off the door.

I don't think it occurred to him that he had other tools in his toolbelt with which he had a much better chance to defend himself with, but Harper wasn't used to fighting with guns or nanowelders. He was better with knives, pipes and chains. He called guns 'Uber weapons'. 

Clutching his knife in his hand, he started shuffling away from the door, slithering across the floor without a sound and never taking his eyes off the door.

Trembling from fear, he stayed low to the ground and stopped breathing—probably thinking about a Magog's sense of hearing being nearly as good as that of Nietzschean. When he reached my slipstream drive, he reached behind himself with one hand and felt the edge of it. His other hand stayed infront of him, the knife pointing straight at the door. I prayed that my captain wouldn't decide to throw open the door just then. Distant clips of that thief lying on the ground with that very same knife in his throat kept dancing through my processors. 

When his shaking hand felt the edge of the drive, he scooted beside it and quickly stuffed himself behind it. Never taking his eyes and his knife off the empty space before him, he wedged himself into the little corner behind my drive. 

Pulling his knees up, he sat there, shaking and pale as he kept his eyes trained on the only space through which death could come and grab him.

Leaning against the wall, his entire body trembling and tense, he got ready to wait for death to come and attack him. 


	21. Chapter 21

The Diaries Chapter 21 

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After her and Rev had finished their conversation, Rev had wanted to know when he would get to meet this 'Master Harper'. Beka had frowned at that and had quietly muttered that she'd better go and see him first. Harper wasn't good with people he'd never met. Rev nodded, completely understanding and said he'd be content sitting in the kitchen and skimming over a few flexis which Beka had tossed onto the table. I quickly scanned them over. They were just copies of  Beka's last few contracts. Rev wanted to catch up on personal grounds and business grounds too.

Beka strode along the corridor and paused before the engineering room door. Taking a deep breath and nervously entwining her hands, she hesitated. Finally, she sighed and muttered: "Oh, screw it." under her breath and pushed open the door.

She was greeted with a heavy, tense silence and a seemingly empty room. She frowned and stepped further into the room, one hand leaning against the doorway.

"Harper? Shorty? You in here?"

No answer. Harper didn't move and even held his breath as he cowered behind the slipstream drive, the knife held rock steady in his hands.

Beka sighed and crossed her arms. "Harper, I know you're in here. I heard you rummaging around with spare parts when I was coming down the corridor. You couldn't have run out of here without me seeing you." She stepped over the pile of machine bits and carefully looked around herself, frowning as she squinted into the far corners and glanced beneath the working bench.

Crouching down, she peered underneath the boiler too. Smiling slightly, she shook her head.

"Come on, shorty. There's no use hidding. Come out. You can't get out of this room without me seeing you and I'm not leaving until I see you. Come on. Get your skinny little ass out here and talk to me."

Harper's terrified eyes darted around, but he still didn't answer her. 

"Harper, come on. Why are you hiding? Is it Rev? He's really nice, you'll see. Once you get to know him, you'll see he's okay. He's an awesome guy, trust me."

Harper glared at that last part, but still didn't move.

Sighing, Beka pushed herself off the floor and started slowly walking around the room, moving piles of boxes aside and peering behind consoles.

Finally, she reached the slipstream drive. Frowning, she cautiously stepped behind it and suddenly came face to face with a shaking, crouching Harper, holding his knife straight at her.

Eyes widening, she gasped and leapt backwards, her hand involuntarily going up to her throat. 

Shaking slightly, she swallowed hard and forced herself to regain some control.

"Harper, please put the knife down." She whispered in a quavering voice.

Harper stared at her with those blank eyes and didn't move. 

She tried again. "Harper, I'm asking you very nicely here, please put the knife down. You don't have to drop it, all I'm asking is that you lower it."

Blinking at her was the only response she got. 

Realizing that he would have already lunged at her if that had been his intention, Beka stopped shaking and shuffled slightly closer.

Immediately, his eyes flashed and his grip on his knife tightened. Her heart leaping into her throat again, she leapt back again.

"Don't. Come. Near." Harper ordered, his voice hard and empty. 

Beka nodded, realizing he was just scared that she would hurt him. Slowly holding up her hands, she shuffled backwards again.

"Alright. Alright. Harper, I don't have any weapons on me right now and I'm shuffling backwards, alright? I won't come any closer if you don't want me to." She stopped moving backwards and lowered her hands after turning them over to show him she really didn't have anything on her. "Is this far enough?"

He stared at her, still wary and afraid. He didn't answer and didn't lower his knife.

Beka looked at him, confused and momentarily forgetting about the deadly weapon still directed at her. "Harper, why are you being like this? Did I do or say something that scared you? Whatever it was, you have to know that I didn't mean it. I've never hurt you, Harper, and I'm never going to. So, can you tell me why the hell you're going all freako on me now? Please?"

The knife in his hand didn't move an inch as he stared at her. He looked like he wouldn't answer, but then he shifted around slightly and mumbled a reply.

Beka leaned forward, not having heard the word. "What?"

He looked slightly irritated at her bad hearing, but shifted around again and repeated it.

"Magog." It should be impossible for anybody to mix as much fear, hatred and resentment into one word as Harper did with that word, but I saw that it is possible after all.

Beka stared at him. It looked like she was going to ask him to repeat it or she was going to laugh it off, but she caught herself. Staring at Harper, understanding slowly dawned on her. As I have said before, my captain is never very quick on the uptake, but once she gets it, she really gets it. 

"Harper—Rev isn't like the other Magog. He's special."

He glared at her, mistrust glimmering in his eyes. "You says that just cause you's its friend. You's helping it get close to me." He mumbled.

Beka frowned, finally understanding where the problem was. "No! Harper, no! That's not what's going on here at all. Rev Bem is my friend, yes. We've been friends for years, but not because he's a Magog, but because he is a very nice and caring individual. He's a monk, you see. He's not like other Magog."

Harper looked at her like she was crazy. "All Magog bad. Them's all kills and hurts and rapes."

Beka sighed. "Harper—"

"Shut up, boss! You ain't know what you's saying! All you spacers ain't got no clues bout Magog. You ain't ever seen 'em coming in hoards to kill and rape. You ain't know nothing."

That cold anger and resentment for spacers simmered in his words.

Beka clenched her jaw, obviously not wanting to deal with another one of Harper's fits and having him fall even further back into his little shell.

Remembering Rev's words, she didn't start uselessly reassuring Harper that she understood what he was talking about and that everything would be okay.

"That's damn right, Harper! I don't know anything. Truth be told, I have no idea why Magog are so terrifying, and I have no idea why you would think I was working with them. I don't understand. There. I said it. I _don't_ understand. So, would you please explain it to me?"

Harper stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me. I don't understand what you're talking about and the only way we're going to get anything done here is if I understand, or at least, until we're on the same basic playing field. So, if you would explain and shed some light onto this murkiness then we might get somewhere other than another argument and more silence."

He frowned at her, obviously not having expected this. Then he scowled. "Ain't no use if I explains. You ain't ever gonna get it. You's spacers all think you's so damn smart but you don't know and understand shit."

Beka crouched back on her heels and crossed her arms. "Try me." She said softly, looking at him.

He shifted around, not quite knowing whether she was worth it or not, but then he decided that he might as well.

Slowly, he lowered the knife and carefully put it down beside him, his hand lightly resting beside it, ready to grab it if she even blinked suspiciously.

Leaning against the wall behind him, he hugged his knees and stared owlishly at her in silence.

Beka remained where she was but sat down cross legged, her legs having started to ache. She kept her hands in her lap and didn't move any closer to him.

"They's come once when I was five. Damn hoard came and attacked the little town we'd lived in on the edge of the city. My ma and my pa ain't wanted to be too close to the Ubers you sees."

Beka nodded. Since Harper was a ghetto earthling, she had already known that he and his family had come from the country to the city to claim refugee status. She just didn't know why.

"Pieces of crap came and killed 'most everyone. Tore everyone apart and infested the rest. 'Most nobody got away without a scratch."

Beka looked at him. "Were you okay?"

Harper scowled at her. "Do I's look dead? My pa saws 'em coming and tells me and the other kids—my cousins—to run an' hide. My cousins—Dec and Siobhan and Brendan and Katie—got all shit scared and started crying and crap bout how the beasts would come an' eat us all and so they just stands there and cry and cry, but I ran. I wasn't stupid, even then. When death is running down the hill toward you, you ain't just stand there and cry, you run like hell. So I grabs the four of 'em and tells 'em to run but Dec and Siobhan, they's just standing there and cry and they want their mama and on and on. So then I sees the filthy things coming towards us and I run. Brendan grabs Katie and they's run too. Katie's the youngest—she was just a couple months old—so Brendan could carry 'er real good. Not like Dec and Siobhan. You know that's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen in my life? Even now, it's the scariest thing I've ever seen. Hundreds of the beasts all screeching and snarling and running around. You can smell the filth on 'em from a click off, and since we's all dirty as hell anyway, that's saying something. You can smell the blood too. They reek like blood and death. Kinda blended in with the rest of us. 

Anyway, we ran into our hut—we was all sharing one hut, we ain't all got our own rooms like you spacers do up here—and we quickly made a fire and lit a bunch of torches and sat there for hours. Couple of the beasts came in, but when they's see the fire, they run away. They's scared of fire, you see? So we got away good. My pa and my ma and the others got the same idea. They was all fighting them off with torches too. My ma nailed one of them right on the head and lit the thing on fire. You should've seen it screeching. Man, it was a sight." His voice drifted off, his mind miles away from Beka, me and the present. He was back in his past, reliving days long gone.

"When they's all gone, 'most nobody was left alive. Took us a week to clean it all up. We burned all the things that we killed and the people they'd killed. We burned all the infested too. We ain't wanted to have those beasts hatching and running around to get the rest of us. It ain't safe to keep the place reeking like blood and gore. More of the beasts come when they smell it."

Beka stared at him, her eyes filled with horrified pity. She cleared her throat and finally found her voice. "What about your other two cousinds? Dec and Siobhan?"

Harper stared her straight in the eye, not a trace of emotion on his face. "They was two of the infested. We got rid of them the same way we did with the others."

Beka nearly recoiled at the indifferent coldness in his voice, but she didn't want to get into another heated argument with him, so she let it go.

She stared at him and clenched her jaw and forced back her tears. "Harper, I'm sorry." She whispered.

Harper shrugged. "Wasn't your fault, boss. Wasn't the beasts fault either, really. They's all born to kill and rape and terrify everyone. We was just easy targets. We ain't got Uber weapons to fight with and we ain't got ships we can run away with. All we had were our knives, torches and our own hands and teeth. We was a pretty even match." He smiled slightly as memory tugged on his mind. "I remembers seeing this one mother and her little kid running away from the beasts. One of the things grabbed her kid and was about to rip it in half when the mother gets all protective and she jumps on the thing. She ain't have a torch or a knife, nothing. She just jumps on him and bites and kicks and claws at the thing until it finally drops her kid and then turns on her. And spacers always say we ain't got guts. I'd like to see any of you jump one of those things and take it one on one."

Beka hadn't heard his last words. "What happened to the mother and her child?"

Harper gave her a look and Beka abruptly dropped the subject. 

Harper shifted around and leaned his head against the wall and looked at her. "So, you gets it a little better now, boss?"

Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, she blinked back tears and forced herself to stay strong. She slowly nodded. "Yeah. I don't get all of it, but that's a given. At least I understand why you hate them and why you're so scared of them."

Harper scoffed. "Anybody in their right minds should be 'fraid of 'em and hate them. They's murderers and rapists, nothing else."

Beka knew that suddenly her argument that Rev was different was going to be a lot harder to bring across than it had previously been.

Sighing, she  hugged herself and stared at Harper. She remained where she was and the silence between them stretched while she pondered over what she was going to say next.

She nodded her head at the spot beside Harper. "Can I come a little closer?"

Harper frowned in suspicion. "Why?"

"Because it's uncomfortable to sit here on the floor, my back is killing me and the wall right over here is covered in pipes."

Thinking it over, he nodded and jerked his chin over to a spot on the wall about a meter away from him. "You can goes there if you wants, boss."

"You sure?"

He nodded.

She slowly scooted over and sat down against the wall. She stared down at her hands and pulled her knees up and hugged them the same way Harper was doing.

While Harper's gaze roamed around between the floor, his knees and Beka, my captain just stared at the slipstream drive they were both now sitting behind. 

She was lost in thought, thinking something over. Finally, she bit her lip and turned her head and stared at Harper.

"Harper, if you want him to leave, then just tell me, and I'll tell him to leave."

He stared at her in confusion and shifted around.

"Whose him?"

Beka sighed. "Rev Bem. The Wayist monk who is my good friend and who is sitting in the kitchen right now. He also happens to be a Magog."

Harper scowled. "You think?"

"Harper, I'm not joking around here, I'm being serious. If you think you would never be able to get over your fear and hatred for Magog, or rather, if you think you would never be able to trust him—even in a few years time—then I'll ask him to leave. He'll understand."

"But he's your friend."

Beka smiled sadly. "Yes, he is. He's a very good friend of mine and has been for years. I trust him more than I trust anybody else, and truth be told, I would love it if he stayed. And I don't only mean that on a personal level. Harper, I can't run this business on my own and we need this business if we're going to get the money we need to eat. Rev knows how to run a salvaging business, how to arrange contracts, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I don't trust you around any potential clients. To be bluntly honest, Rev has the social skills you lack and I need those social skills around. Badly."

"Then why are you's giving me this choice? It's your ship and you gets to decide who stays and who goes."

"I know it's my ship, Harper, but I'm not going to have a crew who hates each other. We've both been there and done that and it doesn't work."

Harper frowned. "I still don't gets it, boss. If you's like the thing better then me then just choose it over me. It's that simple."

Beka laughed softly, bitterly. "No, Harper, it's not that simple. First of all, I don't like you any less than I like Rev. I trust Rev more than I trust you, but I don't like you any less. And to answer your other question, I have to be brutally honest here. You see, if I ask Rev to leave then he has places he can go and people who want him. Harper, you don't have anywhere else you can go and there is nobody else in this universe who wants you or needs you. Harper, I hope you realize that I'm all that you have and ever will get. It's either me or earth. Rev has a lot more choices than that. That's why it's a lot easier asking him to leave then throwing you out." She turned her head and looked at him softly. 

He was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face.  

His gaze drifted to the floor and he refused to look at her. Beka waited patiently, not saying anything. Finally, Harper shifted around again and shrugged. 

"Don't matter if it stays or goes. It's your ship."

Beka threw her hands into the air. "God, Harper! I didn't ask for that. I asked for you to tell me if you would be comfortable living with Rev or if you wouldn't. Don't tell me other crap that I don't want to hear."

He lapsed into silence again and didn't look like he was going to answer.

Beka sighed and leaned her head against the wall. 

"You want him to leave." She said quietly, sad realization flooding her voice.

Harper shrugged but when Beka turned her head and scowled at him, he mumbled a reply.

"I wouldn't ever be comfortable 'round it, boss. It's a Magog. It would either kill me in two seconds flat, or I would kill it. Either way, it wouldn't work. I'm sorry, I just can't do it."

When Beka closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, he looked at her nervously.

"Don't be mad, boss. I just can't do it. If you's wants me to leave 'stead of it, then I'll leave. Just tell me."

Beka laughed softly, her eyes still closed. "I'm not mad, Harper. You have every right to be uncomfortable around Rev and be afraid of him. It's not your fault and I'm not going to force you to be in a situation you don't want to be in. As for throwing you out, I can't. End of discussion."

Opening her eyes, Beka stared at the back of the slipstream drive and took a deep breath. I knew what she was thinking. 

For the second time, she had choosen Harper over a person she truly loved and cared about. She was willing to push them out of her life for a person whom she didn't trust and hardly even knew. She had choosen Harper over Bobby the minute she had signed that leasing contract, and now, she had choosen Harper again.

Harper was the only one in that room that day who didn't understand why Beka looked like she was going to cry while she had a bitter, ironic smile on her face.

Or maybe he did understand. That's why he patiently sat there and didn't say a word until Beka quietly said she would go and tell Rev.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     

Rev bowed in silent understanding after Beka quietly told him what Harper had said. 

Beka ran a hand through her hair and bit her lip. "Rev, I just feel so damn bad, I mean, you and I have been friends for a long time and—"

He gave her a smile and held up a hand. "I understand, Rebecca. Really, I do. You and I have a solid friendship already, one that doesn't require us to be in constant contact to remain strong. You and Harper have a relatively new friendship and you need to stay together in order to make it strong like ours. Besides," he grinned and tilted his head at her. "He is your responsibility and he needs you more than I do."

He frowned when he realized she could take that the wrong way. "I did not mean that I don't need you, Rebecca, I merely meant—"

Beka smiled. "I know what you meant, Rev. The universe is willing to take care of you, but nobody is dumb enough except for me to take care of Harper."

Rev stared at her. "Well, that's not quite the way I was going to put it, but it's close enough."

He turned around to gather the books he had brought up from the Wayist center to read while he was onboard me. His robe swirled around his legs as he turned around, muttering to himself and frowning as he made sure he had everything.

Glancing towards the airlock, he made sure his bags were there and then turned back to Beka.

"Well, this is our 'see you later' time."

Beka laughed, remembering their old routine. "It's never goodbye, only see you later."

Rev nodded. "Always."

Beka's face nearly crumbled. "Oh, I'm going to miss you, Rev. You have no idea how much. You're the closest person I have to a family now—asides from the shorty."

Rev smiled. "You know that whenever you need me for absolutely anything—even to hand you  a napkin when you sneeze—I will be here for you."

Beka nodded. "And that goes for me too."

"I know."

They looked at each other, silent promises of support and friendship flying between them. Beka bit her lip and looked like she was about to cry, but Rev laughed and pulled her into a tight hug.

Rev gently stroked her back but when she still looked like she was going to cry, he started slowly turning them in circles while still hugging her and humming some absurd meditation song.

Beka burst out laughing as Rev turned her in circles around the table and clutched her to him before finally letting her go.

"Oh, Rev."

Rev chuckled and pulled his robe on straight as he gently touched her cheek with his claw and then turned to gather up his books.

With an armful of books, he slowly shuffled out of the kitchen and went towards the airlock, Beka still half laughing and half crying behind him. 

During all this, I had not been the only spectator. Harper had snuck out of the engine room and crept down the corridor behind Beka as soon as the latter had gone into the kitchen.

At first he had slowly slithered long the floor without a sound until he had reached the crew quarters. He had flattened himself against the inside wall, his ears intently listening for any sounds coming from the kitchen. He held his knife tightly in his hand and looked so tense that he would have killed anybody who would have decided to sneak up behind him. 

He had even stopped breathing, but when he realized that Beka and—_it_—were talking quietly amongst themselves, he must have been reassured that—_it_—wasn't looking for him, so he let it out quietly. 

He had crouched there, nervous, scared and tense as he listened to what they were saying.

He heard Beka quietly explain that it wouldn't work out and that she hated to do this, but she had to make a choice and she choose Harper.

Then he heard Rev's response. His eyes widened when he heard—it—speak. I doubted he had ever heard Magog use common before. His eyes widened even more when he heard what Rev was saying. He wasn't threatening to kill her, he wasn't snarling or screeching at her. He was quietly saying stuff about his and Beka's _friendship_ and he said he _understood_. A Magog having friendships and a Magog understanding?

Harper frowned. He looked like a person who had just found out that the sun and the planets revolve around me. 

Hey, speaking of which, wouldn't that be just fine and dandy if—sorry, Andromeda, alright, going back on track.

The hand not clutching the knife reached out and grasped the doorframe and he slowly pulled himself forward, all the while, not making a sound.

He crept along the corridor and slid the knife handle between his teeth as he slithered along the floor. When he reached the little corner beside the airlock, he crouched against the wall and pulled the knife from between his teeth and clutched it in his hands.

Suspicious, nervous eyes never left the end of the corridor and the airlock as he listened for sounds coming from the kitchen.

He heard Beka laugh and heard—it—saying—it—would always be there for her. Even to hand her a napkin if she sneezed. Harper frowned over that one. Why would anybody hand someone a napkin to wipe their snooty nose in? Napkins had much better uses.

But he shoved that aside as he thought over what—it—had just said. A Magog had just said that—it—would always be there for Beka. Beka was laughing. Now Beka sounded like she was going to cry. She was actually crying because a Magog was leaving. Harper frowned. Something was definitely wrong here. This wasn't the way Magog behaved. Not at all.

When he heard them clinking of claws on the floor going aroud the kitchen, he shrank back and tensed up again, but he frowned again and relaxed slightly when he heard the snatches of a weird melody drifting down the corridor. Magog didn't _hum_. They killed and hurt and raped. 

They didn't hum. They didn't say they understood. They didn't have friendships. They didn't act so—so _nice_. 

And they really didn't speak common, and even if they did, they surely didn't speak the nice common this was was speaking. It was a far cry from Harper's common. 

Harper frowned and his knife slightly wavered. 

A Magog—this Magog—was more civilized than he was. This Magog had the things Beka was always going on and on about. What were they again? He swore quietly. Oh, yes. Social skills.

He scratched his forehead and fidgeted around in confusion. 

Nothing about this Magog was right. Everything was wrong. Why was everything wrong with this Magog? Why wasn't he like the others?

He pondered over this and was probably on his way to asking himself whether—_gasp_—all Nietzscheans weren't the same—an impossible thing. 

Suddenly, he tensed up and quietly sniffed the air. Hearing the clinking of dull claws on the floor, he clutched his knife tighter and melted backwards into the darkness of the corner he was hiding in. He held his breath and clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. 

He heard the heavy thuds of padded feet walking past him to the airlock, heard the swish of a cloth dragging along the floor and heard the quiet, grating hum of that song coming from the Magog walking past him. 

There was a Magog walking past him and it was humming. Harper crouched there, torn between remaining where he was and not risking coming face to face with a Magog and possibly losing his life, or peeking around the corner and looking at this strange anomaly.

Biting his lip, he made a decision for which his mother would have called him the dumbest idiot alive. Clutching his knife, he slid around the corner and stared at the figure standing by the airlock, humming quietly and rummaging around with his bags.

His eyes widened and fear clutche him as soon as he saw the Magog. The heavy smell of the fur along with the claws and the horribly hair all threatened to tear him back into his memories. Swallowing his fear, he grasped his knife and remained where he was, crouching on the floor, staring at the this strange creature. He pushed aside all of his instincts and those little voices in his mind telling him to run or to kill it and then run.

As curiousity got the better of him, the fear slowly drained out of him and some of the color returned to his face as he frowned at the weird orange robe the Magog was wearing and the way his hair was tied back in a little ponytail, keeping it from flying wildly and savagely around his face like others of his kind kept theirs. 

Rev moved around one of his bags and frowned and stopped his humming when he thought he was missing something. Turning around, he called back down the corridor.

"Beka, have you seen the—" it was only mid sentence that he spied the little figure crouching by the corner of the corridor, pale and obviously terrified and clutching an unwavering knife in his hands.

Rev immediately backed up a few steps. Harper's eyes had widened and his breath had caught in his throat when the Magog had turned around and he had seen his face.

Even though the Magog's clothes and manners were different, his face was still the same. Ruthless, savage and terrifying.

Clutching his knife tighter, Harper's face paled and a thin film of sweat broke over his foehead. His blue eyes glowed with fear. 

Rev gave him a gentle smile, but was careful not to show his teeth while he did it. Giving the scared human a low bow, he clasped his hands in front of him, trying to show him that he wouldn't hurt him. 

Harper stared up at him from the floor, still breathing hard and terrified. Realizing that maybe he seemed intimidating to the smaller human, Rev promptly sat down on my cold metal grating floor and lightly clasped his hands in his lap.

After staring at each other, one with fear and curiousity and the other with patience and understanding, Rev finally spoke.

"Hello. You must be Master Harper. Rebecca told me about you. It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Harper."

Harper stared at him, not answering. The fear still radiated from him and Rev saw that his staring at him made him even more nervous, so Rev turned slightly and took a book from behind him and opened it. Holding it in his lap, he completely ignored Harper's presence and quietly started reading from the book, his eyes never leaving the pages and his claws occasionally turning a fragile page over.

Harper crouched on the ground, staring at him. While the Magog did whatever he was doing with the book—it's called reading, Harper. We'll cover that one later—Harper looked him over. 

His fur was cleaner than the others usually were. There wasn't any dust, any blood, any dirt. It was clean and didn't reek like death and filth. He was wearing that weird orange robe thing, covering most of himself. Harper had never seen a Magog wearing clothes. He frowned and leaned forward slightly when he spied the Wayist medallion dangling around Rev's neck. He tilted his head slightly and tried to figure out what the golden triangle within the circle meant. 

Rev felt the scared, but curious blue eyes staring at his medallion. He could see the little human slightly leaning forward, but knew he was too wary and scared to come any closer.

Not looking up, Rev slowly reached up—being careful not to make any sudden movements—and pulled his medallion off his neck. Holding it up in his hands, he let my lights glimmer off the shiny metal, before he lightly tossed it over to Harper.

Harper immediately jerked away from it and shuffled backwards as the golden disk fell with a clatter on the metal floor. With wide eyes, Harper stared at the medallion shimmering in the corridor lights with the golden strings lying in a tangled heap. 

When Rev didn't look at him, and didn't even acknowledge the fact that Harper was there, but just resumed reading, Harper figured that it must be safe to creep those few inches forward to come close enough to the strange metal object to touch it. 

When he was crouching on his heels above it, he hugged his knees and stared down at it, waiting to make sure it was safe to touch. He frowned down at it and then mustered up his courage and held out a shaking finger and lightly touched it. Yanking his fingers back as if they had been scalded, he looked at his fingers and rubbed them together, checking for any damage. Finding none, he grew braver and ran a finger along the smooth golden metal, tracing the curious triangle and then running his finger along the circle's edge. Lastly, he fingered the golden strings. 

Glancing up at the Magog who sat there, completely ignoring him, Harper licked his lips. 

"Pretty." He whispered in a barely audible voice. But Rev heard him. He looked at the medallion out of the corner of his eye. 

He nodded. "Yes, it is. It shines very nicely in the light, doesn't it?"

Harper stared at him. For a moment, I didn't think he was going to answer, but then he gave a tiny nod and smiled down at the medallion with that content, grateful smile of his. 

I had hoped that Harper would get up and hand Rev back the metal, but this was the person with whom Beka had to wait a year until he let her touch his hand, so I knew it wouldn't happen. Trust and Seamus Harper hardly ever go in the same sentence.

When he was finished looking at the medallion, Harper gently and very carefully picked it up by the strings and let it dangle in the light for a moment before leaning over and lowering it to the ground a few inches in front of were Rev had tossed it. It wasn't much, but those few inches were milestones for Harper.

Then Harper quickly shuffled backwards, away from the medallion, his knife in his hands again. 

Rev glanced up when he heard Harper come to a stop. 

"Would it be alright if I stand up and walk over to my medallion and pick it up and come back here to my book?"

Harper stared at him blankly, before shrugging. 

Rev nodded and went back to his book. "That's alright. Tell me when you are sure. I can wait, don't worry. I have a lot of time on my hands." He turned another page in the book.

During the next few minutes, during which Harper shifted around and never took his eyes off of Rev and Rev simply continued sitting on the floor and reading his book.  

Rev glanced up again. "Is it now alright if I stand up and walk over to my medallion and pick it up and come back here to my book?"

Harper stared at him blankly with suspicious, nervous eyes. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed hard and slowly nodded. His grip on his knife immediately tightened until his knuckles were white, but Rev wasn't looking at him. He simply put his book aside and slowly stood up and took slow, careful steps across the floor until he reached the medallion. Bending down, he picked it up and slowly put it back around his neck. Not turning around, he shuffled backwards to his spot and sat down again with a quiet groan. Without another word, he picked his book up and went back to reading. Before he turned a page, he glanced up at Harper.

"Thank you for letting me stand up and get my medallion."

Harper didn't answer, only stared at him with that blank look on his face. All Rev and I both noticed that there was slightly less fear in his eyes now. They were still glowing, but now more with curiousity than fear. 

Smiling quietly to himself, Rev went back to reading his book. 

Moments later, Harper decided that he had had enough for the day and crept backwards down the corridor towards the engine room, never taking his eyes off the quiet, reading monk sitting before my airlock. When he had reached the engine room, he opened the door and shut it behind him, and only then did he let out a deep breath and tug his knife back into his pants.

Moments later, Beka came out of the kitchen and stared at Rev still sitting in my airlock amongst his bags, reading a book.

Putting her hands on her hips, Beka looked at Rev like he had grown three heads in the past ten minutes. 

"Rev, what the hell are you doing?"

Rev glanced up. "I am reading, Rebecca. Does it bother you?"

Crossing her arms across her chest, she frowned down at him. "No. The reading doesn't. You can read anywhere, anytime you want and you know it, but—but why are you still here? I thought you had left."

Rev smiled at her. "Yes, I know, but on my way out the door, I ran into a certain Master Harper. We had an interesting conversation and there has been a change of plan. Apparently, things are going to be able to work themselves out. Not very quickly, mind you, but they will. Don't worry."

Beka stared at him, looking slightly jealous. "You actually had a conversation with Harper and you just met him?"

Rev chuckled. "A conversation can consist of many other things than words, Rebecca. I believe that Master Harper realizes that there is a chance for a small, strange friendship between the two of us. Maybe not a friendship, but an understanding, yes."

Beka grinned. "So you're staying?"

Rev smiled. "Well as long as the Maru doesn't mind flying around another person and you do have an extra bunk bed, don't you?"

Beka burst out laughing and came forward to help Rev with his bags, telling him that both of her crewmembers were so weird that it was hardly possible.

Rev smiled, slinging one of his bags over his shoulder. "You always pick your crewmembers exceptionally well, don't you?"

Beka laughed and glanced at him over her shoulder as she walked towards the crew quarters. "That's the problem, Rev. I don't pick my crewmembers. They pick me."


	22. Chapter 22

The Diaries 

Chapter 22

Author's Ramble: Here are the next two chapters. The first one is rather short, but don't worry, the second one threatens to never stop. I'm writing some more really soon, but work is tiring me out way more than it's supposed to, so my plan of writing every night and getting all these little plot dust bunnies out of my head is going slower than I'd like. I'm leaving at the end of next week for three weeks *sniff, sniff* but don't worry, I'll get lots more done before then. My sister tried arguing that maybe I'll finish the story by then (hint, hint), but I told her she was nuts. Gotta love your beta reader. Have fun reading. If you have a spare second after you're done, email me and tell me how you liked it. 

Database Records Archive: 51

Specific Time: That evening

My captain sat at the console in the cockpit, drumming an annoyed finger on the metal cover and scowling at the numbers flickering past her on the screen.

She narrowed her eyes as the final numbers and pieces of data flowed past her. It was the end of the week and I had just completed my usual scan on Harper. My captain had left Harper with the dinner dishes and had come in here to read over the data. 

While she was grumbling and scowling at the numbers, Harper was drying his hands on the towel lying beside the sink in the kitchen and was slowly making his way to the cockpit. On the way, he tensed up and cast a wary glance into the crew quarters, in which Rev was busy unpacking his stuff. He clenched his jaw and involuntarily walked faster until he was well past the room. Forcing his hands to stop trembling, he relaxed slightly and sniffed the air to find out where Beka was. Glancing at the cockpit, he threw one last wary glance over his shoulder before hurrying to the cockpit.

He quietly walked up behind Beka and frowned at the strange green letters flowing past the screen in front of her.

Beka didn't notice him for a minute. When she was done skimming through the last reading—his current blood alcohol level—she finally sensed him standing behind her and glanced at him.

She glared at him.

Harper saw the frown and took a step back. Resting her chin on one hand, she pointed at the screen. 

"Tell me, what does this say?"

Harper shrugged. "Some crap. I don't know. I ain't know how to reads."

Beka rolled her eyes but decided to leave that for another day. Moving her finger across the screen, she read it outloud.

"Level of kidney efficiency—65%."

He frowned, not having understood a word she said. "So?"

She rolled her eyes again and looked like she wanted to stuff him into the console. "What do you mean, so? You've got the crappiest body I've ever seen in my life and instead of actually trying to do something about it, you're still drinking like there's no tomorrow. Damn it, I told you to cut down on the alcohol."

He glared and immediately got defensive. "I can drinks as much as I wants to."

She glared right back. "Oh, no, you can't. I'm the captain and when I choose to get picky about my crewmembers health, then I choose to get picky and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. So, it's either you cut down the drinking and substitute water for it—"

"Ain't drink water."

"Whatever. Drink sparky then. Or orange juice. That way you'll get your vitamins too."

"What the hell are vitamins?"

She scowled. "Mudfoot." She muttered.

"Spacer." He sneered right back.

Beka cracked up and a small smile even tugged on Harper's lips. Leaning against the console, she ran a hand through her short hair before finally calming down again and taking a deep breath.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop nagging, but only if you promise to really cut it down. If you don't, you'll be dead in two years and then who the hell will I pick on? Besides, I need my shorty around."

He gave her a smile which was filled with silent gratitude for those last words. He nodded.

She leaned over and lightly poked him in the ribs. He jumped back but smiled.

"Promise?" she demanded.

He nodded, but didn't say anything. She raised an eyebrow and poked him again. 

"Alright, alright, I promise I'll cut down on the stupid drinking." He muttered, having seen her finger coming the second time and having leapt out of the way just in time.

Smiling smugly, Beka leaned over and turned the screen off, but not before telling me to store the data in the 'usual' folder.

Glancing back at Harper, she crossed her arms again and leaned against the console.

"So, did you just come here for casual conversation, or did you actually need something?"

He bit his lip and his gaze drifted onto the floor as he tried to muster up the courage to come out and say what he came to say. He shifted around and nervously twisted his hands around, but couldn't say it.

Beka leaned forward, frowning slightly. Harper was never this nervous when talking to her. He was only this nervous when he wanted to ask her do to something for him, which—needless to say—didn't happen too often.

"Come on, spit it out. What do you need? Ask me anything, Harper, and I'll get it for you."

He frowned, clearly not believing her. She grinning wryly.

"At the rate of which you ask me for things, I could give you the Maru everytime and still be rich."

He smiled for a second, but the smile disappeared when the nervous shifting resumed.

Beka smiled gently. "What is it? Come on, you can ask me anything, you know that."

He shifted from one foot to the other and refused to meet her gaze, desperately trying to muster up enough courage to ask her what he came to say.

"Come on, ask me already." She coaxed him.

Glancing at her, his gaze faltered and fell to the floor again where he was scuffing his boots nervously.

"I ain't wanting to sleep in the same room as the Magog."

Beka didn't move a muscle when she heard the muttered words. She crossed her arms.

"Don't call him a magog, Harper. It'll just reinforce your fear everytime you talk about him. Besides, he has a name."

Harper stared at her like she was nuts. She ignored the look, probably knowing that where Harper came from, Magog didn't have names.

"His name is Reverend Behemial Far Traveller. I call him Rev Bem or just Rev. You can call him that too. He doesn't mind in the least."

He whispered the strange name to himself a few times, before finally shrugging, his way of telling her that it was fine with him.

Rubbing her tired eyes, she looked back up at him. "But that's beside the point. You don't want to sleep in the same room as Rev?"

He nodded slowly, still wary of her reaction to him having asked for something. 

She bit her lip, thinking it over. "Alright, that should be easy enough. I'll go and ask Rev to move the cot from the cargo bay into the storage closet. There's enough room in there for him to sleep comfortably."

He stared at her. "I can move 'stead of Rev Bem. He ain't needing to move just cause I ain't comfortable."

Beka smiled and shook her head. "Harper, you've slept in that room longer than he has so you have first dibs. Besides, it took me forever to get you to sleep in that bed, and who knows how long it'll take me to get you to sleep on the cot in the storage closet."

He stared at her, still nervous. He licked dry lips. "You sure he won't minds?"

She smiled. "Of course he won't. He'll understand. Besides, if he does mind, I'll just let lose the Valentine fury within me and he'll be scampering into the closet faster than the Maru in slipstream."

Pushing herself off the chair, she brushed past him to go to the crew quarters where Rev was still rummaging around. Before she turned the corner to walk down the corridor, Harper cleared his throat and called after her.

"Boss?"

She stopped and glanced at him over her shoulder. "Hmm?"

He frowned. "I just wanted to say I'm mighty glad you's doing this for me. I'm glad you's doing all this for me. I don't think I've ever said. That ain't cause I ain't meant to say it, it's cause I ain't know what to say."

Beka turned around and leaned her hand against the doorway frame. She smiled gently.

"You can say thank you, Harper. If you want something, you say please at the end, and if you want to say you're glad somebody gave you something or did something for you, you say thank you. And lastly, if you want to say you're happy to have heard somebody say thank you to you, you say you're welcome."

He shifted around, mulling over what she'd said. Twisting his hands around, he finally looked her in the eye.

"Thank you, boss. For everything. Thank you." He said quietly, using those strange words for the first time in his life.

Beka was careful not to let it show how much those words touched her. "You're welcome, Harper." She whispered, then turned around and quietly made her way towards the crew quarters. 

Harper was left in the cockpit, leaning against the railing, mumbling over and over to himself: 

"Please, thank you, you're welcome. Please, thank you, you're welcome."


	23. Chapter 23

The Diaries 

Chapter 23

Database Records Archive: 52

Specific Time: That night

It was in the middle of the night. I was quietly running through some diagnostics and letting my engine hum quietly as my auto-pilot pulled me around a deserted asteroid field. Since I hadn't been in this particular field for quite a few years, I was intending on spending the night downloading data from my external sensors and storing it in my very impressive database. Yes, Andromeda, I said very impressive. You see? I can be impressive, even without an AI.

As I was preparing to download the data my scans had collected, I was suddenly interupted by a member of my crew. 

It was Harper. I carefully monitor every member of my crew constantly during the day and the night and I can notice in a millisecond if they even blink the wrong way. 

What caught my processors attentions was an increase in Harper's respiration rate and heart beat rate. I frowned internally and momentarily forgot about my scans—who cares about the size and rotation patterns of asteriods when a member of your crew might be in danger—and quickly focused in one Harper.

At first I thought that he had woken up, but immediately discarded that idea when I realized he was still in bed. I forced my damn old sensors to zoom in closer. 

Harper was sleeping. But not quietly. 

He was twisting around underneath the bed sheets, getting them tangled around his legs and his stomach. His face was pale and covered in a thin film of sweat and his eyes were squeezed shut, unseen horrors running around behind his eye lids. Tiny, incomprehensibly mumbled words escaped his lips as he jerked around, his face muscles twitching. His heart was thudding in his chest and his respiration rate had increased considerably as he alternated between gasping for breath and holding his breath, the rest of him shaking from the effort. 

I quickly fed the information from my scans into my database and impatiently waited for an answer to come back.

Finally, a single, green word came rushing into my subconscious. 

Harper was having a nightmare. 

I knew about nightmares. Beka used to have them all the time when she was little. The drug addicts she saw during the day onboard myself would surface in her dreams and haunt her. Rafe had nightmares too sometimes. Mostly about monsters he saw in holo-horrors. Even Bobby had a few nightmares. He never spoke so I could never find out what he dreamed about, but he'd always wake up, gasping for breath and wide eyed, pulling the covers up to his neck, the hidden child within him surfacing. I found that a very common trait among humans. When faced with a terror greater than they can fight, they all revert back to being a child, scared and alone, waiting for somebody to come along and help them.

I focused my attention back to Harper. His nightmare was getting worse. He jerked in his sleep and quietly cried out a few times. At one point, he jerked to one side and brought an arm up to his face, trying to fend off whatever or whoever was hurting him in his memories. 

Sobs tore from his throat as he shook, lost and alone in his memories. Oh, how I longed for an AI at that moment. How I longed to be able to call out to him and comfort him. To wake him up and tell him everything was alright, that his memories and demons were behind him now. 

I would have cried from frusteration if I could have. One of my crewmembers was suffering and lost in anguish and all I could just sit here and watch. 

But no, I can't even cry. 

While I fought my dull anger at my inability to help him, Harper was torn from his nightmares by himself.

With a terrified cry, he was thrown from his memories. He bolted up in bed, wide-eyed and terrified. Gasping for breath, he immediately reached down to his pant leg and pulled out his knife. Clutching it in a shaking hand, he yanked the bed covers up to his chin and hugged his knees, rocking back and forth, scared and alone. Quiet sobs racked through him and unshed tears ran down his pale face. Strands of his hair were plastered to his sweaty face as he sat there in a huddled, scared mess, his eyes glancing around the crew quarters, suspicious and terrified. 

How badly I wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, to hug him, or just to tell him everything was alright and that he wasn't alone. 

How badly I wanted to have an AI.

But now, as Harper sat there, shaking from fear and sobbing quietly, all I could give him was the feeling that he wasn't alone. I could tell he knew I was there with him the way he kept on glancing around at my walls and the way the fear seemed to dim in his eyes whenever he looked at a wall or a pipe on my ceiling. 

Clutching sweaty sheets to his chin, he tightened his grip on his knife and stared around himself. Although his sobs quietened and his breathing slowed, his fear didn't wane. His eyes roamed around, wide and scared, looking to see if the hidden demons from his past had followed him into the waking world. To see if his past had followed him into the present. 

For the next hour, Harper remained like that. He sat on his bed, hugging his knees and quietly rocking back and forth, his eyes wandering around, jerking and widening at the slightest noise. When my stupid coolant system kicked in like it did every night—damn, annoying thing—he jerked around, his breath catching in his throat. His grip changed on his knife and he held it further away from him, ready to stab anything that moved. Gasping for breath and shaking, he didn't calm down for the next ten minutes until he finally recognized the sound and realized it wouldn't hurt him. 

I was still berating myself for not being able to help him. I know it sounds stupid, and I guess I always knew it was a waste of time and energy, but I can't help it. 

My crew is always here for me when I need them, yet in their darkest moments, I can't be there for my crew. Not in the way they need me to be there. 

But, as it always happened, my inability to communicate with my crew with emotions was made up by the simple fact that my crew expressed them for me. 

In the storage closet, Rev's sensitive hearing had detected Harper's quiet cries and sobs. He had woken up quite a while ago and had quietly stood up and had stood by the closed door of the closet, debating within himself what to do. 

While he stood there, he quietly listened to Harper waking up and sitting in his bed, sobbing and terrified, he seemed to be just as lost as I was. 

Realizing that somebody who could actually help Harper was awake, I threw all my hope and despair at Rev, praying quietly that he could do something about it.

But, this was easier said than done. 

Rev and I both knew that Harper was scared right now and that it was in the middle of the night. Seeing a Magog right now would send him off into such a frenzy that he would either kill Rev or kill himself with a heartattack. 

After standing by the door and argueing back and forth with himself for nearly an hour, Rev finally decided that he couldn't let Harper suffer alone, and he decided to open the door.

Harper heard him opening the door as soon as Rev's claws clicked on the metal handle. 

His eyes widened as he heard the door handle turning and the door quietly groaning open. He sniffed the air and immediately, terror clutched hold of him as he recognized the musty smell. Clutching his knife, he tore his sheets off himself and crawled to the far end of the bed and curled up into a little ball, tense and terrified. As he heard Rev's claws quietly clicking on the metal grating floor, he stopped breathing and brought his knife up, holding it rock steady and pointed it at the door of the crewquarters, ready to kill anything that walked through it. 

Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, a bead of sweat slid down his pale face, but he ignored it, wide, glowing blue eyes never leaving the door. 

Rev pulled his robe tighter around himself and slowly stepped towards the crewquarters door. He stopped and sniffed quietly. He took a step back as soon as he smelled the heavy, unmasked fear radiating from the room. Harper was terrified and Rev knew it. Even though a small part of Harper knew who Rev was, that part was suppressed right now under fear and old memories and the only thing registering in Harper's mind was that a Magog was standing outside the corridor. Rev knew that Harper would kill him as soon as he set foot into that room. 

Clearing his throat quietly, he gently called down the corridor towards the tense silence in the room. 

"Master Harper? It is only I, Reverend Behemial. Don't be afraid, I will not come any closer. I will only walk down the hallway and get Captain Valentine for you, alright? I don't think you want to be alone right now. Would that be alright?"

A tense silence greeted this. Rev knew he would never get an answer, so he quietly made his way down the corridor, past the bathroom, into Beka's room.

Squinting through the darkness, he spied Beka sprawled out on her bed, one hand hanging over the edge of the bed and the other one instinctively lying close to the spot between the wall and her bed where she kept her gun. 

Crouching down, he reached out and gently shook her arm.

"Beka! Wake up my dear, Harper needs you. Beka!" he whispered quietly. She groaned and quietly mumbled a response which neither Rev nor I could make out. 

When Rev shook her one last time, she swatted at his hand and swore quietly and rolled over, turning her back to him. 

Rev and I both smiled. Where my captain gets her ability to sleep through absolutely anything is beyond me. Both of her parents were light sleepers. 

Giving up on her—and probably knowing he would get his hand bitten off or shot off if he shook her one more time—Rev pushed himself off the floor and slowly walked back to the crewquarters. 

Pausing outside the door, Rev heard Harper holding his breath again and the heavy smell of fear increased. 

"Master Harper? I cannot wake up Rebecca at the moment and for that I sincerely apologize, but if you like, I can remain here and you can speak to me about anything you like. Would that be alright?"

No answer. Harper curled himself up even tighter and barely moved as a glint of light reflected off the knife clutched in his pale hands and danced in his dark eyes. 

Rev took one step closer and put one hand on the doorframe. Slowly shuffling forward, he pulled his robe around himself to cover most of himself and quietly stood in the doorway. 

He opened his mouth to repeat what he had said—probably thinking that Harper hadn't heard him—but before he could say anything, Harper lunged. 

Throwing himself across the bed, he grabbed his pillow and hurled his pillow at Rev and while the monk was trying to duck out of the way, Harper leapt off his bed and scurried across the floor, throwing various articles of clothing at Rev and hissing curses at him. 

Never turning his back to him, Harper shuffled backwards, staying low to the ground and feeling around the dark floor until he could get his hands on something and then throwing it with such deadly accuracy that it always hit Rev right in the face. 

"Harper! Calm down! Please! I never meant you any harm! I'll leave if you're afraid, but please, calm down!" 

Harper snarled at him and his eyes glowed in the darkness and he swore at Rev again.

"Dirty fucking rapist!" he hissed and reached behind himself and grabbed hold of a broken scanner which he had been playing around with that afternoon. 

Jerking around, he threw it at Rev, who barely managed to duck out of the way. The scanner hit the wall behind Rev and shattered into pieces, wires and pieces of glass and plastic buttons raining onto the ground.

The noise sounded louder than a gunshot and woke my captain with a start. Her hand immediately grabbed her gun and she threw her covers off and leapt up, her hair flying around her face and her boxers tangled around herself. 

Running down the corridor in her barefeet, she frowned when she saw Rev standing by the door of the crew quarters, one hand on the doorframe, slowly pulling himself up. 

Beka's eyes widened when she spied the broken scanner. Very quickly, she put it all together. Running up to him, she told me to turn on the lights, which I obeyed. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she frowned, her eyes clouded with worry.

"Rev, are you alright?"

Rev waved her concern away. "I am fine, Rebecca. Don't worry about me. Take care of Harper."

Reassured that at least one member of her crew was alright, she pushed past him into the room, blinking at the bright light. 

She stepped over the piles of loose clothing lying scattered around the door and loosely held her gun in her hands as she squinted into the corners, looking for Harper.

She immediately saw him. 

He was crouching in a corner, shaking and terrified, wide eyes staring at Rev in the doorway. Small growls and snarls escaped him and his eyes were glinting dangerously, filled with too much fear to realize that Beka was standing between him and the danger.

Seeing the knife tightly clutched in his hand, Beka's hand holding the gun jerked involuntarily but she forced her hand to stay still.

She stepped closer to him. Immediately, he tensed up and snarled at her, glaring with terrified eyes, not recognizing her. 

She frowned in confusion until she realized Harper was caught between his past and the present and hadn't recognized her. 

She stepped infront of Harper's line of vision, blocking his view of the doorway, where the wayist monk was still getting himself back together. 

"Harper? Shorty? You alright?" she asked, trying to sound casual. He didn't answer, only glared right through her at the magog still standing there. 

Beka turned her head slightly, not taking her eyes off the shaking, scared mess sitting before her on the ground. 

"Rev, get out of here. Now. Go back to the storage closet and stay there until morning, please. I'm so sorry, but—"

Rev nodded and straightened up. He held up a hand. "I understand perfectly, Rebecca. It is I who needs to apologize. I stepped over the line and Master Harper became frightened. This is my fault. Now I'll leave." Bowing quietly, he made his way back to the closet and shut the door. In the silence which followed this, we could all hear the lock being turned in the closet. 

Harper's eyes hadn't left the door and the tenseness and fear still radiated from him. 

Beka stood where she was and slowly dropped her gun onto a shirt lying on the ground. 

"Alright, shorty, I'm not armed anymore. I can't hurt you, okay?"

Holding up both her hands to the suspicious, mistrusting eyes glaring at her, she slowly took a step closer. 

Immediately, Harper hissed at her. "Don't. Come. Near."

Beka stopped and slowly crouched down, staring at him. Crouching on her heels in her boxers and her shirt, she pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

"Harper, what's wrong? I know Rev scared you, but he didn't mean to. He just wanted to help you—"

Harper glared at her. "Shut the mouth, spacer. Ain't need your shit."

Beka nearly recoiled at the harsh words, but stopped herself. She frowned as she realized Harper still didn't really know where he was. 

"Harper, it's just me. It's Beka. You're on the Maru with me. With Beka. Come on, shorty, work with me here. I can't help you unless you try too. Come on, it's just me. It's Beka."

She spoke slowly and quietly, forcing a small, reassuring smile onto her lips. 

Harper stared at her and blinked a few times. He finally frowned. 

"B-Beka?" he whispered. 

She nodded. "That's right. Just me and you. There's nobody else here. There's nobody who will hurt you or scare you. Just you and me."

His eyes darted around as he thought this over. Beka was here. Wherever Beka was, he was safe. Beka meant safety and no pain. His grip on his knife loosened slightly and the tenseness drained from him as he finally let go of his fear and realized where he was. 

He blinked and stared around at my walls. "Maru?"

She nodded. "Yup."

He frowned. "Nobody hurts on the Maru. Except for Mister Bobby. But he went aways."

Beka clenched her jaw as painful and angry memories surfaced, but she pushed them aside. 

"That's right." She tilted her head and smiled at him. "You with me now?"

He let out a deep breath and collapsed against the wall, letting his knife drop in his lap. Unused adrenaline grabbed hold of him and he started shaking. Nodding his head, he stared at the ground. 

"Yeah, I's with you now, boss. Sorry. Got kinda lost. I do that sometimes. Ain't meaning to."

Beka smiled and crawled up to him. 

"No problem, shorty. Everybody has little quirks. It doesn't matter."

When she was crouching in front of him, she reached out and gently pushed back a strand of his hair which was still plastered to his face. 

He tensed up a little at the touch, but he didn't pull away. 

When Harper's shakes finally stopped, Beka got up and pulled his blanket down from the bed. Shaking it out, she wrapped it around him.

He frowned. "I ain't needing a blanket, boss. It'll just get dirty with me sitting on the floor."

She rolled her eyes and waved it away. "Screw it. I'd rather get the blanket dirty than get you sick sitting on the floor like this."

Harper clutched the blanket around his shoulders and let Beka rub his back until the color had returned to his face and the shakes had completely stopped. 

When he started shifting around, Beka pushed herself off the floor. 

Worry and fear immediately clouded his eyes when he thought she was leaving him. She smiled at the worry.

"Don't worry, shorty. I'm not leaving you. You're coming with me. We're going to the kitchen and grabbing a midnight snack before bed. We've both had too much excitement to be able to go to bed right now."

Harper gave her a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, boss. I ain't—" he swallowed as he stood up on shaky legs. "I ain't wanting to be alone, if that's alright."

Beka smiled and held onto his arm as he stumbled slightly. "Well, it's a good thing your captain doesn't mind having company then."

Slowly, they shuffled out of the crew quarters, their bare feet padding across my metal grating floor. 

It was only after they had left the room that I noticed Beka's gun still lay on the shirt on the floor, and Harper's knife lay on the floor where he had dropped it when he had clutched the blanket around himself. 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *

As they passed the storage closet, Harper sniffed the air and immediately gasped,  tensed up and was about to run, but Beka put a gentle hand on his wrist and stopped him.

"It's okay. He won't come out. Trust me."

Harper swallowed hard and hardly managed to tear his wide eyes off the door, but willingly kept on walking towards the kitchen, letting Beka's hand stay on his wrist. 

When they reached the kitchen, Harper sat cross legged on one of the chairs, pulling the blanket around himself with white knuckles. With wary eyes, he watched Beka moving around the kitchen.

Yawning, my captain went to a drawer, pulled it open and took out two spoons. Shuffling around the table, she yanked open the fridge and shivered slightly from the cool air which drifted out.

Squinting into the fridge, she rummaged around until she found a carton of chocolate ice cream. Smiling, she pulled it out and put it on the table. Kicking the fridge closed behind her, she grinned at Harper who was curiously staring at the box. 

"It's ice cream, shorty. It's basically frozen milk and other artificial crap which can come in all kinds of different flavors and colors. It's good, you'll see. It's the best midnight snack food there is."

Harper gave her a wary frown, but then gingerly picked up one of the spoons. 

Beka pulled off the lid and tossed it onto the table. Sitting down in the chair across from him, she grabbed her spoon, licked her lips and dug into the brown ice cream. Digging out a good size spoonfull, she smacked her lips and stuck the spoon into her mouth. 

While she let the spoonfull dissolve in her mouth, she shoved the carton across that table to Harper.

"Try some. I guarantee you'll like it better than beer." She mumbled from a full mouth. 

Harper gave her a look. "Ain't possible."

"Smartass. Just try it."

Sighing heavily and glancing up at the ceiling, probably muttering a quiet prayer that the new chocolate stuff wouldn't kill him after the first bite, he scraped some of it onto his spoon and held it up to look at it. Frowning at it, he smiled when he saw the tiny, clear crystals clustering on the chocolate. 

"Ice." He mumbled. 

Beka raised an eyebrow, her spoon still in her mouth. "Huh?"

Harper didn't take his eyes off the tiny crystals and turned his spoon gently, letting the lights above him glitter in the small specks of frozen water. 

"It's ice. On the chocolate stuff."

"It's called ice cream."

"Whatever."

Beka rolled her eyes. "Quit hogging it already and pass me the carton." Harper shoved the carton back across the table and experimentally licked at the ice cream on his spoon while Beka attacked the carton with her own spoon. 

She glanced up at him again. 

"Is there a lot of ice on earth?" she asked casually, waiting for his reaction. 

Harper stared at her and it looked like he wasn't going to answer, but he decided that he might as well. He shrugged. Classic Harper response. 

"We had some bad winters in the camp. Lots of ice and snow, but the sewage and septic lakes never froze so they reeked the whole year round. I never minded. You don't smell the crap after a couple of years. You get used to it." He shrugged, absentmindly staring at his spoon and tracing a scratch on the table with it. 

Beka tried not to stare as she ate another spoonful and pushed the carton back to Harper. 

"Was the cold bad?"

He gave her that look that plainly stated how stupid he thought all spacers were. 

Beka raised a defensive eyebrow. "Hey, I've lived up here my entire life. I've only seen snow like twice in my life and both times my mom dressed me in such layers that I nearly overheated."

Harper stared at her with that unreadable expression in his eyes before digging out another spoonful of ice cream and quietly eating it. 

"Cold was a killer. Always was, always will be. Everybody knows that. Ubers always locked the gates and stayed shut up in their headquarters the whole winter. Didn't bring us food, didn't let the Than in to give us anything, and didn't even let us out to dig around in the dumpsters and garbage cans beside the camp. I mean, we lived right beside a freaking dump! We could have eaten all winter and nobody would have had to die if the fucking dumbasses would have just let us out once or twice a day. But they didn't. They thought it was hilarious."

"What was hilarious?" My captain's spoon had dropped to the table, where she was rubbing it with her fingers, having completely forgotten about the ice cream. 

Harper gave her that bitter, hard smile he sometimes wore. "They thought it was hilarious watching us trying to live through the winter. There were about 50 kitch of us—"

Beka frowned. "50 what?"

He scowled but then realized she really didn't get it, so he glanced around the kitchen, frusterated and annoyed when he couldn't quite think of the word. 

"You know, kitch."

She raised an eyebrow. "No, I don't know. What is it? A number?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course it's a number, smartass, I mean, boss. Yeah it's a number. One with a lot of zeroes. I don't remember what it's called in common."

Beka thought it over. "Thousand maybe?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Anyway, there were a hell of a lot of people and we was living squished together like tuna in one of those shiny can things—" he pointed at the fridge. "—I mean, there wasn't that whole, one room a person thing you guys have going on up here. Me, my ma, my pa, my uncle and aunt, Brendan, Katie, Dec and Siobhan and, well yeah, Gimpy too."

My captain raised another eyebrow and tried not to laugh. "Gimpy? Who would name their child Gimpy?"

Harper shrugged. "Probably nobody but we don't know. Brendan and I found him in one of the city's dumpsters when we were six. He was just a few months old. We were just going to leave him, but then Katie comes along and says that her ma—my aunt—could take care of him, so we took him in. I don't know what happened to his parents, but it must have been something bad. He was terrified of everyone for years and wouldn't say anything until he was five. The only word he'd say was gimp, so we called him Gimpy. Simple as that. Besides—" Harper yawned and twisted his spoon around in the ice cream. "Nobody bothers to give their kids meaningful names. Most kids die before they're a year old anyway, so it's a waste of a name. Anyway, so we was all sharing a hut together. It was a piece of crap really. Ubers didn't give us anything to build a home with when they let us stay. They said their protection from the Magog was enough. Yeah, right. So we had to dig through the dump and go and beg and borrow to get things.Our hut was basically made out of cardboard, pieces of wood and rags. Try sleeping in that in the dead cold of winter with nine other people and staying warm. We ran out of wood to burn in days and we didn't have anything to eat. My ma used to stir dirt, insects and snow together to make this paste like thing. Hey, it beats starving." A small smile crossed Harper's lips. "I remember she always used to make us take our clothes off and scrub ourselves with snow. Fucking shit, that was cold! We nearly froze to death and of course, stumbling over frozen corpses lying around under the snow didn't help, but at least we were clean at the end. It's the closest we ever came to having a shower. I remember this one year when I looked up and I saw an Uber kid—his dad's one of the guards—standing in the window above me in the headquarters he lived in. He was laughing and pointing at me, a skinny, starved, naked little kid, scrounging around in the snow and dirt, poking at frozen bodies to see if they had any food on them. You know what I did? I threw a snowball at the window. That was a good laugh. Brendan and I joked around about it for years."

Beka smiled faintly, the 'joke' having been slightly disoriented in her eyes at the image of a starving, thin child standing in the snow, fighting tooth and nail to find a bite to eat. 

"What did the kid do?"

Harper's smile waned slightly. "He yelled to his dad and moments later, the window was thrown open and his dad had a death spitter pointed at us and started shooting. Brendan and I got away though. We always did. Stupid ubers. Can't fire straight. Or maybe it was because we all blend in with the filth around us so they can't really tell what to shoot at. Either way, they have crap aim."

Beka smiled sadly, pity clouding her eyes. 

Harper shifted around, having recognized the look in her eyes. "Don't start getting all teary eyed and pityish on me, boss. I ain't need or want your pity. None of it is your fault or mine and we can't change any of it. All we can do is have a good laugh about it."

Beka briefly closed her eyes. "Harper, I won't lay my pity on you, I won't cry of frustration because there is nothing I can do about it, but please don't ask me to laugh about it."

Harper tilted his head at her, momentarily not understanding. Having spent his entire life knowing that he could either cry or laugh at the crap the universe was constantly handing him, he had always choosen to laugh. It was easier and it dulled the pain better. He could never understand it why it was so hard for Beka. But even if he didn't get it, he dropped it anyway. 

Munching on another spoonful of ice cream, he shoved the carton back at Beka who absentmindly poked at it. 

She glanced at Harper. She couldn't say that he was never open with her. He was. But mostly he told her about things that were casual, things that didn't really matter. I could tell the way she was looking at him and weighing out her options, she was thinking over whether or not Harper would tell her what his nightmare was about. 

Harper immediately noticed her staring. He shifted around. "What?"

"Want to tell me about your nightmare?" she asked quietly.

He stared at her, his eyes suddenly hard and defensive. "No." The answer was simple, swift and final. 

She nodded. "Okay." She let it go as easily as if they had been talking about dinner and Harper didn't want to have a second serving. 

He frowned at her, sucking on his spoon. "Okay? That's it? No nagging, no whining? Nothing?"

Beka shrugged. "Everybody has their own demons, Harper, you know that. Some of them are meant to be shared and some of them are meant to be bottled up inside until they force their way out and you reach out for help. When that day comes, I'll be here to listen and help. Until then, you can keep whatever demons you have to yourself. I don't mind. You can tell me when you're ready."

Yawning, she reached over and put the lid back onto the carton. Standing up, she put it back into the fridge and kicked the door shut behind her. Running a hand through her limp, tired hair, she tossed her spoon into the sink. Harper took his spoon out of his mouth and threw it into the sink. The resulting clatter echoed throughout the silent kitchen. 

Yawning again, my captain stretched. "Come on, let's go back to bed. We've got one hell of a day tomorrow."

Harper glanced around and looked like he was going to ask something, but then decided to push it away. Beka immediately recognized the look on his face, even though she was tired. 

"What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing." He mumbled. Beka gave him a weird look, but then shrugged it off and walked out the kitchen and down the corridor towards her bedroom and the crewquarters. Harper followed behind her, seeming tentative and nervous. 

Without a word, she stopped at the crewquarters and leaned against the doorway until Harper passed by her and pulled himself up onto his bunk. His blanket and pillow were still laying on the floor, but he didn't mind. He curled himself up into a little ball in the corner and stared into the darkness before him. 

Grumbling, Beka muttered a few curses and stumbled into the dark room, stepping over piles of clothing and various spare parts until she found his pillow and his blanket. Tossing them up on the bed, she muttered "good night" and walked towards the door again. 

Harper lay curled up in that little ball, not having touched the blanket and the pillow. He stared ahead of himself, his eyes scared and wary as he stared at the darkness surrounding him. 

Beka paused as she was about to leave and half turned around. Squinting through the darkness, she sighed and crossed her arms. 

"Are you going to sleep tonight?"

Harper stared. "No." The answer was simple and honest. 

Beka stared down at her feet and sighed heavily. Chewing on her lip for a while, she finally got an idea. "Alright then, come with me."

He frowned down at her and remained where he was. 

Beka scowled up at him. "Come on, already. Get a move on. It's in the middle of the night. I'd like to catch a few winks of sleep before I have to get up again."

Not argueing with her and not daring to ask where they were going, Harper jumped off his bed and landed soundlessly on the floor. Padding up to her, he frowned at her, but didn't ask anything. 

Turning around, she walked down the corridor to her room. Walking in, she yawned again and pulled her covers straight and slid into bed.

Harper paused by her door and stared at her, looking completely confused. 

Beka blinked at him, exasperated. "Get over here already, shorty. I'm going to get mighty pissy if I don't get any sleep pretty soon."

He shifted around. "I ain't needing—"

"What you need right now is to have some company while you're sleeping and the feeling that you're not alone. You can get both right here. Now come on and get in her already. My feet are getting cold."

Tentatively, he walked across the floor and quietly crawled under the covers beside Beka. Leaning over him, my captain tugged the covers around him and muttered that he better not crawl out from under them until morning. 

Turning over, she nudged her pillow right and closed her eyes. 

Harper stared around in the darkness for a while, looking tense and uncomfortable. Beka's breathing slowly evened out and I could tell the sound of her quiet breathing soothed him. 

Tangling his hands into her covers, he pulled them up to his chin and snuggled deeper into them. When something creaked in my walls, his eyes widened and he tensed up and it looked like he might leap up and scamper away, but instead, he moved closer to Beka. She didn't stir but only rolled over slightly. One of her arms lay draped across the pillow and Harper tentatively snuggled closer to her, curling himself up and laying his head on the pillow below her arm. 

He hardly dared to breath, afraid that he would wake her up, but after he remembered what a deep sleeper she was, he relaxed and soon he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

It was the calmest sleep I had ever seen Seamus Harper have. It was the first time he truly felt safe and protected. 


	24. Chapter 24

The Diaries 

Chapter 24

Author's Ramble: I just wanted to say thanks for all the awesome feedback, especially Paris. You guys are the best. I was so glad you guys still like this story that I was up until one in the morning last night, or rather, this morning, finishing this part. When I woke up my sister to read it for me, she was thrilled as we can all imagine. I was horrified when I saw that in exactly thirteen pages, this story will be 200 pages long. _200 pages_!! Some people can't write that much in a normal novel, never mind a story that was supposed to be short and sweet. Oh, well. As long as you guys like it and the story still strikes a chord with me, I'll keep on writing, although I'm warning you, this thing might drone for a bit longer. Think Lord of the Rings. _Ack_!! (_Raven turns away from her computer, shaking her head at her 200 pages of ramblings, wondering if there is such as thing as a fan fiction limit and being horrified at the thought_)

Database Records Archive: 53 (10084)

Specific Time: Two nights later

Harper was having another nightmare. I had been watching him for ten minutes, twisting and turning underneath his sheets, his shirt soaked with sweat. His face was pale and he gasped for breath as he lay curled up in a shaking ball, his hands clutched into fists. His eyes flew around beneath his eyelids and he clenched his jaw from time to time to keep from crying out. He jerked around in his sleep and whimpered softly as if somebody was kicking him. Suddenly, he writhed around and struck out with his hands, trying to ward off whoever was hurting him. When that didn't make the assault stop, he cried out and brought his hands up to his face and curled up tighter, shaking and whimpering. Unshed tears lay in his squeezed shut eyelids and threatened to escape, but he forcibly held them back. Crying quietly from fear or pain or both, he lay there curled up, hardly daring to breath. 

I was in the middle of yelling at myself for not being able to help him again, but once again, I was saved by my resident Magog monk, who has better hearing than Harper and Tyr combined. 

Rev quietly opened the closet door and without a word, tip-toed down the corridor to Beka's bedroom. Quietly creeping up to her bed, he softly called her name and shook her. 

Grumbling, Beka rolled over and half opened her eyes. "What?" she muttered, more asleep than awake. 

"I hate to disturb you, Beka, but it's Master Harper. He's having another nightmare and it's a bad one. He seems horribly afraid—"

Immediately, Beka's eyes opened fully and an alertness seeped into her for which her father would have been proud. Not even yawning, she immediately pushed her covers off and swung her legs over. Running a hand through her hair, she quickly made her way to her door, completely awake. Her crew was in trouble and no matter what time of day or night it was, Beka Valentine would be there, alert and ready to fight hell itself to help them. 

Quickly running down the corridor and ignoring the coldness radiating from the metal beneath her bare feet, she ran into the crewquarters. 

Harper hadn't woken up yet. His nightmares always took a while to play out and Rev had been quicker to get Beka than he had been the night before. Both he and Beka were learning. 

Walking over to his bunk bed, Beka pulled herself up on the side and stood on Vex's old bunk and softly called Harper's name. 

Normally, Harper's sensitive hearing and the fact that he was the lightest sleeper I had ever met would have ensured that he wake up like lightening before Beka even entered the room, but right now, his past was keeping him in its clutches and refused to let him go.

Crying out and whimpering, he lay in a shaking ball, the covers clenched in his sweaty palms. 

"Harper! Come on, wake up, shorty." She called softly. When he didn't respond, she reached out a gentle hand and shook him. 

Immediately, he whimpered fearfully and jerked away from her and curled himself up tighter. Between his terrified sobs, Beka could hear him muttering little snatches of things she could barely understand. 

Reaching out again, she stroked his face gently, but he still jerked away from her and tried to hide his face behind his hands and the covers. 

Biting her lip from frustration because Harper wasn't waking up and was just getting more afraid everytime she touched him, she reached out and shook his shoulder slightly harder than she had before. 

Immediately, Harper's eyes flew open and his wide, terrified, tear brimmed eyes stared into her concerned and gentle ones. 

His breath catching in his throat, he pulled himself further away from her and curled up, shaking his head. 

"Don't hit. Please. No more. Ain't done nothing. Don't hurt no more. Please." He whispered, sobs making the pleaded words catch in his throat. His eyes were filled with such silent pleading that Beka nearly took a step back, but then remembered she was standing on the bunk bed. 

Frowning, she realized that once again, Harper didn't know where he was. 

"Harper, it's me, Beka."

He shook his head, not having heard or understood a word she had said. "Don't hit. Please. Don't hurt." Shaking still, he stared at her with begging, terrified eyes. 

Beka nearly started crying. "Harper. Seamus, come on. It's me here. You're on the Maru with me. With Beka. Come on, Seamus. Work with me here. Try to remember where you are."

He continued shaking his head and muttering small pleas for her to stop hurting him. 

"Seamus, listen to me for a minute, come on. Just listen to me. You're on the Maru with me, with Beka. Nobody is going to hurt you here. You know that. Work with me here, Seamus. I can't help you unless you try."

He bit his lip for a moment, stopping another endless mutter of half incomprehensible snatches of pleaded phrases. 

Staring at her wide eyed, he frowned through his unshed tears. 

"Nobody calls me Seamus 'cept my ma and she's long dead now."

Beka nodded. "I know that, but I'm not your mom, Seamus. I'm Beka. You know me. Try to remember where you are."

Frowning still, his breathing calmed down slightly as he stared at her, the years falling away and recognition replacing the fear in his eyes. 

"B-Beka?" he whispered. 

"Yeah." She whispered, her voice catching in her throat. The relief and trust he always put into her name was astounding. 

Still not quite believing himself, he untangled one of his hands from their death grip in his sheet and reached out with a shaking finger and gently touched her cheek. The touch was so light that it could have been a breeze, nothing more, but it meant more to Beka than any other touch. 

Satisfied that she really was real and not just a dream, he let out a deep breath and suddenly, the pent up fear from before caught him and he started shaking. 

Clutching the sheets closer to him and curling up around them, he quietly lay there, shaking. 

"They was being so mean, Beka. So mean. And I didn't even do nothing. I was just sitting by myself in the alleyway. Ain't a crime." He whispered, sobs catching in his throat again. 

Beka nodded, not really understanding, but knowing that didn't matter at the moment. 

Reaching out with a gentle hand, she started lightly rubbing his arms and his back in slow, soothing circles. She nearly fell off the bunk bed, but forced herself to remain where she was. 

Harper needed her and there was no way she was leaving him now.

Not realizing that Beka didn't understand what he was talking and couldn't see the same haunting faces he saw hidden in the darkness, he kept on muttering. 

"They was so mean. They just keeps on hitting and hitting and kicking too and I asked them real nice to stop. I even says please, but they's just laughs and keep on hurting. They always hurt me, Beka. Always, and I never do nothing to them." He swallowed shakily. "They says it's all kludges are good for." 

"Harper, that's not true! You know that. You're worth a lot more than any of those Uber bastards." Beka cried out softly.

But Harper hadn't heard her. "They was always so mean, Beka. They always hurt. Can you ask them to stop?"

Beka bit her lip and swallowed the hard lump in her throat. She would not cry. Not when her crew needed her. 

Deciding that telling Harper his faceless demons couldn't hurt him anymore would only confuse him and anger him, she decided to play along. "I don't think they'll listen to me, Harper." 

His face fell and the flicker of hope evaporated from it. "Oh."

Before he could curl up again and his fear would have a chance to come back, she gave him a small smile. 

"But if I keep you busy and we go have a midnight snack now and later you sleep in my bed, I don't think they'll dare come back tonight."

Harper mulled this over, but finally nodded, dead serious. Clutching the blanket around himself, he swung his bare feet over the edge of the bed. His hand brushed over his pant leg where he kept his knife, age old instinct allowing him to feel the heavy weight with just a light touch. He dropped soundlessly to the floor. Beka pulled the blanket tightly around him and together they slowly made their way to the kitchen.

Along the way, Harper kept on looking fearfully over his shoulder and huddled closer to Beka as they walked. Putting one hand across his shoulder, Beka talked to him reassuringly until they reached the kitchen. 

Harper didn't even calm down as they sat in the brightly lit room. He kept on glancing down the corridor and into the dark corners of my kitchen which the light didn't quite reach. As Beka moved around the kitchen and grabbed the plate of cookies left over from dinner, she noticed his fear. 

Biting her lip, she decided that going back to her room to grab her gun would make Harper edgy and leaving him here by himself was out of the question. Thinking it over, she finally opened a drawer and took out a heavy pan. 

Putting the cookie plate on the table, she put the metal pan down beside it. 

It caught Harper's wandering gaze and he frowned at it. "What's that for?"

Beka smiled as she sat down in the chair beside him. "That's for hitting anybody who walks into this kitchen. Anybody. As soon as they put one foot in, we hit them over the head with it and that's the last thing they'll remember doing with their life."

That seemed to reassure Harper and he stopped glancing around and turned his gaze onto the cookies. His eyes lit up as he recognized what they were.

Picking one up, he sniffed it and held it up. Beka laughed. "You intending on framing that or eating it?"

Harper gave her a shaky smile, some of his humor having returned. "It's pretty."

She rolled her eyes. "Weirdo." Reaching past him, she grabbed a cookie for herself and they started munching on their late night snack. 

As they ate and laughed quietly, neither of them mentioned pasts, nightmares, demons or pain. Beka didn't ask him what his nightmare had been about, and Harper didn't say. He had told her all he wanted her to know. Even though Beka still didn't understand completely, she was willing to hear whatever Harper wanted her to hear, not a word more. 

After they had polished off the cookies and Beka had put the plate into the sink, Harper wrapped the blanket around himself and they shuffled back down the corridor to Beka's bed. 

Beka climbed in first and spread Harper's blanket over hers to make a double layer. 

Moving over, Harper tentatively crawled in beside her, but as soon as he felt the double layer or warmness, he smiled and snuggled in deeper. 

All of his fear and apprehension gone, Harper pulled the covers up to his chin and moved closer to Beka, who didn't move away. 

"You alright now?" Beka whispered. Harper nodded.

"Good." She smiled and gently ruffled his hair and then burrowed herself into her pillow and blanket, but stayed close to Harper. She never moved any closer to him than necessary, but if he moved closer to her, she never moved away. 

Database Records Archive: 54 (10088)

I must pause for a minute to address some questions a certain High Guard fossil—the ship, not the human—asked. Having an AI turns one into an annoying pain. Don't tell her I said that. 

Andromeda demanded to know why Harper only started having these nightmares now, after having been onboard myself for more than a year. 

Let me first remind everybody that Harper hardly slept during those first few months during which Bobby was sleeping in the same room as him. Not sleeping doesn't leave room for many nightmares. During the months after Bobby left, Harper finally curbed his insomnia a bit. He still got up quite early and lay awake until everybody else had gone to bed, but at least he slept decently. Rev and Beka had a discussion over this a while ago and both of them think that during the time when it had only been her and Harper living together, he had put his past and his memories into such a far corner of his mind that they even stayed hidden during the night. However, as soon as Rev became a part of my crew again, old memories surfaced and his demons came back to haunt him. During the day time, he could keep busy and ignore them, but at night time, there was nothing to hold them back.

Rev very quickly started making it a habit not to come out of his room during the night, no matter how much he wanted to comfort Harper. Everybody, including Rev, knew that his presence in the middle of the night would do more damage than good. 

When Beka realized that Harper's nightmares would be a continuously recurring thing, she pulled this new responsibility to her just like she had with everything else. She never complained and whined over her lack of sleep and her engineer's incapability of leaving his past in his past. Just like she had done many times in the previous year and a half, she quietly readjusted her life. She got used to being woken up in the middle of the night and immediately being wide awake and going to help Harper. As time went on, she became a lighter sleeper, which had served us all well in the previous years. In a few months, Rev didn't have to wake her up anymore, but a part of her heard and another part of her felt it when Harper was having a nightmare and she got up by herself, her instincts having woken her up. 

She got used to quietly whispering soothing words to Harper and coaxing him out of his darkness when he didn't recognize her. She got used to ignoring the words that poured out of his mouth when he was scared and had only just remembered where he was. This was partly because they were too awful to believe and she knew she'd go and kill every Nietzschean and human she could her hands on if she could, but also because Harper never remembered what he told her and she knew he'd flip out and get defensive if she brought it up. 

She even got used to waking up while sleeping in her bed with Harper when the nightmares still refused to leave him alone. She'd wake up from the quiet sobbing sounds and the slight shaking of the bed. The first time this had happened, Harper had got up and had gone to sit in a corner of the room so he wouldn't wake her, but Beka sensed it when he got up so she woke up and demanded that he get back into bed and tell her what's wrong. He had stubbornly shook his head and proclaimed that it didn't matter, so Beka had let it go, but she made him promise to stay in bed. Whenever he'd wake up in her bed, shaking and crying quietly, she'd quietly roll him over and pull him into her arms and rub his back in slow, soothing circles and rock him back to sleep. He'd curl up against her, muttering small words which Beka didn't want to hear and didn't want to understand. She'd always have to force herself not to cry when she heard the muttered "No. Please don't." but she'd continue to hold him and try to sooth his fear away. After a while, he would always fall back to sleep, exhausted from fear and crying. That was when my captain would let her own tears quietly slide down her face, never letting Harper hear her sobs as she held him in her arms. 

During the day time, Seamus Harper always manages to keep a sunny smile and an obnoxious attitude plastered over himself which prevents anyone from seeing beneath the false pretense and glimpsing the hurt, scared child beneath. The child who had grown up in hell surrounded by hate, abuse, torture, beatings and rape in one of the most brutal dictatorships the universe had ever seen. Not a lot of people see this side of Seamus Harper. He keeps it well hidden and the only times it surfaces is when he is sick or is having a nightmare. My captain accepted this side of him like she accepted everything else about him and comforted him when she could, didn't ask questions he didn't want to answer, and never told a soul about anything he sobbed out while still half asleep. 

Not even Dylan knows about the hidden pain in Harper's past. He knows about the rebellious, touch ass attitude that Harper carts around with himself, but he doesn't know about the hurt, abused child hiding beneath this. Whenever he has a nightmare on Andromeda, Rommie immediately informs Beka, who runs down the hall and does what she had been doing for five years. She quietly soothes away his fear with words he only half listens to and coaxes him back to the present. Afterwards, they'd always go and dig around in the mess for some junk food before they go back to Beka's quarters to sleep. In the wee hours of the morning, Harper would wake up, slip out and run back to his own quarters, nobody except for Rommie and Beka knowing about their nightly routine. 

Database Records Archive: 55 (10084)

Specific Time: A week later

The last few days had been weird. Harper had gone around acting as if nothing was wrong, but had been edgy and snarky around Rev. It didn't take a genius to understand why, but it had started grating on Beka's nerves that Harper wasn't even trying. 

She had decided to take her frustrations out on piloting and was sitting in the piloting chair, dodging around asteriods with one of her CD's playing in the background. Harper was tinkering around inside one of the walls behind the railing in the cockpit. He was currently sitting in the gaping hole left from taking one of the panels off. He had Vex's toolbelt—his toolbelt—around his waist and had the goggles shoved up on his forehead and was untangling some wires which had snagged around a coolant pipe back there. Andromeda smirks. Apparently, such things didn't happen to a starship. 

He was tapping his foot in time with the music and was quietly humming along, his fingers fiddling around with the wires. 

Shifting around, he swore when the nanowelder dug into his hips and he jerked around slightly until it was comfortable. 

Leaning forward and squinting slightly, he pulled two wires apart and taped one to the inside of my walls while holding the other one in his teeth. 

Beka glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. "You'll electricute yourself, you idiot."

He smirked at her, not taking his eyes off the wire he was taping up. 

"Sounds kinky."

She scowled, also not taking her eyes off the asteriod field we were flying through. "Wise-ass."

"And don't you love it, boss?" he muttered, taking the wire out of his mouth and taping it to the coolant pipe, ensuring the two wires would never become entangled again. 

"Shut up and take the damn wire out of your mouth."

He stuck his tongue out at her and pulled out a scanner. "Already did, and shove the 'mommy worry' act will ya?"

Raising an eyebrow, she got that look on her face. "I'm only filling shoes that need to be filled. Besides, somebody with your brains demands that somebody be watching your ass everyday of your life anyway."

He rolled his eyes. "Nobody watched me for years on earth—"

"And look how great you turned out."

Scowling at her, he narrowed his eyes and started punching around on the scanner. He still couldn't read what the buttons said, but Beka had sat him down one day and filled in all the blanks Vex had left behind. Moving the scanner over the coolant pipe, he slowly poured over the data drifting across the screen. He couldn't read the writing underneath the graphs, but he could understand the graphs well enough. 

He sighed when he realized there was still a twisted mess somewhere in my wall. That darling coolant pipe still wasn't cooperating properly. Sorry, Harper. I sincerely apologize. Even impressive ships have their bad days. 

Staring around the darkness of the hole he sat in, he reached up and grabbed another bundle of tangled wires. Shifting around to get comfortable, he leaned against the edge of the wall and started untangling the fragile wires. One of his legs dangled over the rim, his boot tip scraping the metal floor from time to time. For the first time, I realized how the pushed up goggles spiked up that insane hair even more. I focused in on his hair. 

It was amazing really. It reflected everything Seamus Harper was. It was wild, unruly and unpredictable and continued to defy the laws of gravity and pressure, even when wet or squished beneath a pillow. But when Beka ruffled his hair or he ran his hand through it, I could see that those spikes were really fragile and soft and could be crushed by a finger. Just like the rest of him. 

The silence between them stretched on for a bit longer while Beka flew and Harper untangled wires. But it wasn't an uncomfortable, tense silence. It was the kind of silence two close people could share when they didn't need to speak to be able to know the other was still there for them. 

After she had navigated me out of the asteriod field, Beka started getting a little bored as she flew through normal, black space. The boredom made her thoughts wander, and I could tell she had soon thought her way back to the original problem which had nagged at her for days and forced her to disengage auto-pilot and take the controls herself. 

As her attention started wandering, her hands loosened on the controls and her thoughts drifted away. She shook herself a few times to get her mind back on track, but after the third time, she swore quietly and asked me to engage auto-pilot. 

Unclicking her seatbelt, she pulled her knees up and let her hands fall limply into her lap. She stretched her fingers out, her muscles having stiffened up from flying the controls. 

Leaning her head back, she sighed. "Harper, why aren't you even trying?"

He frowned over his shoulder at her, having just managed to extract a badly bent and chewed up wire out of the tangled mess. "What the hell do you think I'm doing over here? I've been bent over this mess for like twenty minutes now."

She rolled her eyes. "Not the coolant pipes, or the wires. That's not what I'm talking about."

"Oh." He went back to staring at the pile and gently turning it and poking at it until he found a loose end and could start pulling it. "Then what the hell are you talking about?"

"Rev."

The little hairs on the back of Harper's neck actually rose an inch, but the rest of him remained impassive. "What about it—him?"

Beka sighed. "Harper, that's exactly what I'm talking about. You're not even trying—"

He glared. "Yes I am—"

"No, you aren't."

"What the hell do you know? I have been trying. Besides, even if I haven't, it ain't none of your business so you can back the hell off." He spat, immediately defensive and edgy.

Beka refused to be moved by the harsh tone and words. "Okay, first of all, shove that attitude back to where it came from—"

"I can have as much attitude as I fucking want—"

"Not on my ship you can't, understood?" Her voice had that hard edge to it, which Harper and I both recognized. That was her captain voice. The voice not a lot of people disobeyed, especially people who knew her.

Immediately, Harper shut his mouth and went back to glaring at the wires in his lap, his eyes smoldering. He knew when to back off. With anybody else, they could have a gun shoved in his face and he would still be telling them to fuck off, but not with Beka. The respect and trust he had for her didn't allow him to be disrespectful and snarky to her. 

Beka had been tensely waiting for another outburst of attitude, but when she didn't hear one, she relaxed slightly. 

"Now that we have that out of the way, let's get back to what we were talking about before. Harper, I don't want to hear any excuses, I don't want any snarky, bad mouth responses and I don't want any more I-don't-give-a-damn-about-the-universe attitude, alright? All I want is to know if you have any intention of trying to get over your fear or if you intend to stay out of his way for the rest of your life."

He shrugged. "Don't know." He mumbled. 

Beka sighed. "Give me a little bit more than that to work with, Harper."

Biting his lip, he slumped against the wall and let the tangled mess of wires lie limply in his lap. One of his fingers still absentmindly fiddled around with a loose end. I could see the different emotions flickering across his face. Despair, then anger, then resentment, and finally, despair conquered and took over.

"He just scares me, okay? You never said I had to get along with him. Hell, you even said he was leaving, and then suddenly, he decides to stay. I told you what I wanted and you ignored it. It ain't my fault you decided to shove the original plan into the garbage."

That pissed her off. "Harper, have I ever ignored what you asked for? Huh? Have I ever?"

He glared. 

Feeling the response in the back of her neck—who couldn't feel those steely blue eyes digging into their skin when they were directed right at somebody—she tried again.

"That's what I thought. Listen, shorty. Rev is a member of this crew and he is here to stay. I'm not saying that you have to be buddies with him, but at least try to understand that he's different—"

"Fuck, boss, I know that! But it's just—he still reeks like the others and looks like the others. It don't matter that he prays, talks common and is all nice and shit. He's still a magog and he creeps me out."

"Shut that mouth for a minute and let me finish." She was using that voice again and Harper immediately went quiet, fiddling around with wires. "You know deep down that he's different. Not just because he's a monk and obviously, the rest of his kind aren't exactly monks, but also because he's been doing everything he can to make you feel comfortable. He never stays in the same room as you when he feels your fear and he never approaches you or talks to you unless he has to. But Harper, those few moments when he does talk to you, I'd appreciate it if you would at least try and talk to him reasonable. Swearing and glaring at him won't cut it. You're both members of my crew and you have to work together. Rev has been doing his best to stay out of your way, but sometimes, your paths will cross, and when they do, you can stay as far away from him as you want, you can even point a gun at him, but don't get all snarky. Just answer him reasonable and quickly and he'll leave you alone. You know he will." She glanced over her shoulder at the slumped form sitting silently in the gaping hole. "Is that okay?"

He shrugged, not looking up. 

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I know you're pissed off right now and you think I'm being insensitive and being a definite spacer here, but I'm only trying to make things work. You have to understand that. I'm the captain, Harper, and I have certain responsibilities. You know that."

For a minute, it didn't look like he would answer, but finally he nodded. "Okay." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"You'll try a little harder to be more polite?"

He nodded. "Yeah. If you wants me to."

"Yeah, I do. And I know Rev does too."

"Then I'll do it. But just for you, not for him. I don't owe him squat."

Nodding, Beka didn't push anymore and put her feet back on the ground. Looking around, she told me to disengage auto-pilot. I obeyed and she picked up the controls. 

After flying around for a while without speaking, Beka quietly asked me to engage auto-pilot again. Pushing herself out of her chair and stretching, she walked up the step and went over to where Harper was still untangling wires. 

"Shove over." She yawned, nodding her chin at his legs. He glanced up at her. 

She smiled. "You do something for me, I do something for you."

Understanding, he moved his legs so she could sit down across from him. Handing her part of the tangled mess of wires, Beka leaned against the wall and quietly went to work untangling the wires with him. 


	25. Chapter 25

The Diaries 

Chapter 25

Medical Ramble: I'm apologizing now before you read the following mess. I'm not a doctor, nor will I ever be a doctor. I have never had stitches and I have never even seen them. The entire next section where I mention stitches and how they're dealt with comes purely from my imagination. If anything is glaringly wrong, I apologize. 

Database Records Archive: 56 (10084)

Specific Time: 3 days later

Beka threw her hands into the air and swore. Rev cringed. Beka noticed.

"I'm sorry, Rev, but swearing is the only appropriate language I can use in this situation."

Rev smiled gently. "Rebecca, you'll only be gone for a few hours—"

"You don't understand, Rev. I haven't left him alone all day for months now. Besides, all the other times I've left him alone was when the ship was empty and he felt safe. Now there's a magog who will be his only companion for the hours I'll be gone."

Rev sighed. "If you think it would help, I will go and make myself useful elsewhere on the docking station while you're gone."

Beka bit her lip as she thought that over. "Okay, fine. You know, Rev, I'm so sorry about this. It's not fair and it's not your fault and you shouldn't have to be the one to leave, but if I make Harper go I'll probably never see him again and—" her voice drifted off. 

Rev nodded. "I understand."

A hard, ironic smile drifted across my captain's face. "It's hilarious you know. A Wayist magog has an easier time being accepted on a docking station than a street kid from earth."

"Ain't a street kid. Used to live on the streets. Did for three years, but then they let me back into the ghetto. There's a difference between the streets and the ghetto." The quiet, emotionless voice cut into their conversation. 

Beka turned around and saw Harper standing in the kitchen doorway. He was staring warily at Rev and was clutching the doorway with one hand, his knuckles white from tension.

Beka crossed her arms. "Harper, all crap aside, are you going to be okay here by yourself? I'll only be gone for a few hours. I wouldn't even have to go if that thickheaded armsdealer would agree to sign the stupid form over the com and not in person."

Harper shrugged. "I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."

Beka smiled ruefully. "Yeah, sure. Sometimes I forget."

Turning back to Rev, she was about to ask him something, when Harper's uncomfortable shifting caught her eye. Raising an eyebrow she looked back at him. That shifting always meant he wanted or needed something.

Beka crossed her arms. "What?"

He shrugged, averting his eyes. 

"Don't give me that damn shrug, Harper. What do you need? New shoes? Ice cream? More beer? I wasn't planning on going shopping, but if you need something, I can get it."

He shook his head. "Ain't need nothing."

"Then what is it?"

Keeping his eyes on the ground, he mumbled a reply. "Rev ain't need to go anywheres. Ain't fair for him to go when it's me who's uncomfortable. He can stay. As long as he don't touch me or go anywhere near me, I ain't mind him."

Beka stared at him, trying to see if there was some ulterior motive underneath this very anti-Harper suggestion.

"Okay, wise guy, where's the catch?"

He shrugged. "Ain't no catch. Just doing what you wanted me to do. I'm being polite. Well, as polite as I can be." He glanced up at her. "You see? I'm trying."

Rebecca doesn't smile that often. She doesn't smile her real smile that often. She has that wise-ass grin, the dangerous smile, the confused smile and the phoney smile, but her real, small half smile isn't one which people see often. 

Right after she heard Harper's words, I saw that smile on her face. 

The smile which radiated of proudness and trust in her crew. 

"You sure?" she asked softly, her eyes nearly glowing. 

He nodded, not daring to look at Rev. 

Rev gave him a small bow. "I thank you, Master Harper. That decision took a lot of courage to make and I commend you for it."

Harper gave him a weird look before staring at the floor again. He still couldn't quite get used to the idea that the magog spoke common and said such weird, nice things. 

Beka sighed, sounding a lot more relieved than she had a few minutes ago. Running a hand through her hair, she glanced around herself and picked up a flexi from the table and made sure she had her gun in her holster. 

She glanced at Rev. "Docking patrol should be coming around in a few hours. Pay them the minimum and say we'll be out of here in three hours. If you see them coming again, don't open the airlock. I'll sneak on and we'll split."

"Rebecca, you know I hate—"

"I know you do, and for that I apologize. But we barely have enough money left over to eat with, never mind buying the shorty new pants and ammunition for the guns. We can't afford to pay a rip-off overdocking time charge to the patrols."

Nodding, Rev left it alone. Logic sometimes forcibly overrode his principles. 

Mumbling to herself, Beka walked towards the kitchen and ruffled Harper's hair before she walked down the corridor. When she reached the airlock, she paused before punching it open and glanced over her shoulder.

Harper was still leaning against the doorway, staring after her. 

"Behave yourself while I'm gone okay? And no wild parties."

Harper smiled. "I'll try."

"Good. And by the way, shorty, you know something?"

He frowned. "What?"

She smiled. "I'm proud of you for being willing to do this. I know it goes against a lot of earther principles, but I'm proud that you're trying."

The smile which lit up Harper's face could have lit my entire corridor. 

Giving him a wave, Beka turned around and opened the airlock. Closing it behind her, she hopped onto the docking station platform and quickly disappeared in the throng of people milling around. 

Database Records Archive: 57 (10084)

Specific Time: Two hours later

My slipstream drive broke. I had noticed the little weird sounds which rattled deep within the drive while Beka had last been streaming, but money was tight a the moment and I didn't want to worry Beka with the additional costs of repairing it and buying new parts for it, so I didn't put it on the damage report. 

Now it was busted big time and I felt horrible. Harper was scampering around inside the drive—Rev having turned it off moments before he had hopped inside—and was mumbling to himself as he looked at the busted plugs and burned out coils and wires. 

"Well, my girl, you really did a number on this poor drive, didn't you? Vex always said these things were a bitch to fix. Well, we'll find out, won't we?"

Feeling around his waist, he pulled out a nanowelder, yanked his goggles over his face and went to work. 

While he cut up, welded and basically rebuilt the inside of the mangled drive, he was humming a song from one of Beka's CD's. I recognized it but was way too lazy to sort through the soundbyte files to find the name. I'm allowed to be lazy. I don't have an AI.

When Harper reached an old coil inside the drive, he reached up to feel it with a light finger, and it promptly fell off and landed in his lap.

"Oh, crap." He mumbled and threw it over his shoulder into the engineering room. Scampering backwards, he climbed out of the drive and started hunting around the room for a spare coil.

Walking over to a console which we barely use and I think even Beka has forgotten the use for, he yanked it open and squinted around in it, before he found an identical coil. Using the edge of his screwdriver, he jimmied it out and smiled as he tossed it up into the air and caught it again.

"Well, lucky for you old girl, this old brain of mine knows a few cannibalizing tricks." 

He went to the drive again, climbed in and wedged the new coil into place, replacing the old one. 

He smiled at it. "There, you see? Good as new." He frowned at it. "Not as shiny as it could be, though." He licked a finger and rubbed a few grease spots off it. "There we go. You could use this thing as a mirror."

Smiling proudly to himself, he put his goggles back down and turned on his nanowelder. Humming that song to himself, he crouched on his heels as he cut a section of fried wires and mangled metal out of the side of the drive.

As the sparks flew around him and he shifted around occasionally to get a better angle, something in the room beside him crashed noisily.

Later on, I went back and analyzed exactly what had made the sudden, out of place noise and found that it had simply been a small sheet of metal which had fallen over and had fallen to the floor with a loud clatter.

Harper immediately jerked from the noise and his head swung around, his eyes wide, staring at the opening of the drive. At that same moment, his hand had slipped and the searing heat and electricity streaming from the nanowelder sliced into his arm. 

With a hiss of pain, he dropped the nanowelder and fell back from the wall. Throwing his goggles off with his good, right arm, he clutched his cut arm to himself, pressing it against his chest. Hisses and moans of seering pain shook through him and tore from his clenched jaw. 

Eyes squeezed shut, his face paled and became covered in sweat as he rocked back and forth, trying to push his pain away. 

Panicking, I quickly did a scan on his arm. The results weren't good. The cut hadn't only been long—going from his elbow around his arm towards his wrist—but had also been deep. Blood gushed from the wound and the skin around it was mangled and burnt, raw red in some places and a dark black color in others. It looked horrific.

As blood streamed from his arm and stained his shirt and dripped from his elbow onto the floor beside him, he doubled over, moaning and nearly crying from pain. 

Sobs of pain racked through him and he bit back a scream. Clutching his arm, he slowly forced his eyes open. Logic started overriding his pain as he saw the nanowelder still spitting sparks and heat at the wall, having nearly cut through it and mangled the drive beyond repair. Reaching out with his shaking, good arm, he quickly turned it off, before hissing again and bringing his arm back to clutch his badly burnt and bleeding one. 

Meanwhile, Rev was sitting in the kitchen, skimming over the days mail. A few friends of his from the Wayist center had written to him about progress at the center, and he had intended to spend the next few hours reading quietly before making Harper something to eat. 

His reading was interupted the moment he smelt the blood. Sniffing the air, his eyes widened and he dropped the flexi to the table. Grabbing the first aid bag from its hook beside the fridge, he immediately started running down the corridor. 

"Master Harper? Where are you? Are you alright?"

Nobody answered him. His sharp hearing could pick up tiny moans and hisses of obviously excrutiating pain. 

Sniffing around himself and turning in circles, he quickly narrowed down the source of the blood to the engineering room. 

Running towards it, clutching the first aid bag to himself, he pushed open the door. He had been about to barrel in and run to help Harper, but skid to a halt before he crossed the threshold. 

Harper had heard and smelt him coming. He had forced his eyes open and was staring wildly around himself. His eyes were bright with pain and confusion. As he stared around himself, he didn't seem sure of where he was, but as waves of pain tore through him from his arm, he kept on hissing and closing his eyes, not really caring where he was. 

When he smelt a magog coming towards the room, he swore in a shaking whisper and immediately backed himself up until he had his back jammed against the back of the drive. Along the way, he nearly fell over and had to put down his bleeding arm to steady himself. Immediately, tears of pain filled his eyes and he bit his lip to keep from screaming. Yanking his arm up, he went back to cradling it against himself. His shirt was soaked in sweat and blood had dripped all over the drive's floor. 

Moaning, he was shaking from the pain and the fear of a magog walking down the hall. 

With a shaking hand, he reached down to his pant leg and pulled out his knife. Cradling the knife and his arm to himself, he forced his eyes to stay open and stared at the open end of the drive, fear and pain making his eyes unnaturally bright. 

He held his breath when he heard the magog opening the door. 

Rev peered into the room, looking for Harper. When he didn't see him, he frowned and was about to turn around, when he heard the small whimper of pain coming from the slipstream drive. Leaning forward, he heard snatches of ragged breathing, raw with pain and heard the unmistakable sound of Harper moaning and hissing from pain. Rev could also smell his fear. Knowing that Harper's pain might be confusing him, he knew that rushing in and grabbing Harper would only make the situation worse. 

Putting the bag onto the floor, he took a quiet step into the room. 

"Master Harper? It is I, Reverend Behemial. Please try to not be afraid. I know you are badly hurt and you are in great pain, but I have the first aid bag right here with me and I can help you. Would you be able to crawl to the front of the drive so I can see you and help you?"

The only answer he got was the sounds of heavy, painful breaths which Harper tried to quieten but failed. 

Taking a few more steps into the room, he grabbed the bag again and walked towards the drive. The strong stench of blood in the room was making his head spin, but he shook his head and forced himself to concentrate. 

"Please try to not be afraid. I will not harm you. I meerly wish to help you. You are in great pain right now Master Harper and you need my help." He talked softly and slowly, trying to sooth Harper's panic. He could smell Harper's fear increasing and could hear little scrapes of boots against metal as Harper tried to cram himself further into the drive, away from Rev. 

Reaching the drive, the heavy, pain raw breathing increased and he heard the sobs and hisses of pain clawing at Harper. 

The smell of blood engulfed him and he had to hold his breath for a moment and close his eyes briefly to return to his senses. His other nature always threatened to take control at the worst possible times. He could not lose control now. No. Not now. Not around Harper. 

Putting the bag onto the floor, he took a wide step around the drive so he wouldn't be directly in front of it. Clutching his robe around himself, he slowly bent down until he saw Harper. 

He saw the pain crazed eyes and could see the fear glowing within them. Whimpers of pain and sobs vibrated througout his shaking body. Rev saw the blood soaking his shirt and saw the drops of it covering the floor of the drive.

Harper was badly hurt. From the way he was clutching his left arm to himself, Rev quickly guessed that he had cut his arm somehow. Sniffing the air quietly, he smelt the faint stench of burning flesh and from the blood covered nanowelder lying infront of his shaking, crouching body, Rev guessed he had found the source of the injury.

Rev opened his mouth to tell Harper he was only here to help, but Harper reacted faster. 

Clutching his knife in his blood covered hand, he threw it at Rev. Rev saw it coming and barely managed to duck out of the way.

"Harper! Please! I am only trying to help!"

Hissing from pain, Harper stared wildly at the magog. Realizing his knife had missed, he knew his only chance of survival was to jump right at the filthy beast and take it one on one. Before the beast could recover from the shock of nearly having a knife burrow itself into his throat, Harper lunged. 

From the small space in the drive and because his sight was starting to get blurry and he was shaking badly, Harper had barely uncurled himself before he fell heavily onto his side, right onto his mangled arm. 

The scream which tore from his throat was loud enough to alarm the passerby's walking past me on the docking station outside. 

Sobs of excrutiating pain racked through him and his vision greyed. Squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip to keep quiet, he fought to keep on breathing, but the panicked, pain racked sobs kept on interrupting him and before he could fight to stop the shaking and convulsing of his body, he faded into blackness and passed out. 

"Harper!" Rev had lunged forward to catch his shaking body before he fell onto his side, but didn't reach him in time. The scream which ripped from shaking, pain racked boy nearly made Rev back up and cover his ears. 

Crawling towards him, Rev saw him twitch a few times, and saw his eyes dimming strangely, before he passed out. Muttering a small thank you to the Divine above, Rev tossed his medallion over his shoulder and crunched himself into a little ball to allow him to crawl further into the cramped space until he reached Harper. His robe dragged through the puddles of Harper's blood, but Rev ignored them and only stopped when he reached Harper.

Gently rolling him over, he lightly took hold of his good arm and started pulling him out of the drive. The space was too small for Rev to carry him. 

As soon as he had pulled the bleeding, shaking boy out of the drive, he gently laid him onto the floor. Ripping open the first aid bag,—sometimes claws were useful—he prepared a very strong sleeping drought mixed with pain killers and quickly injected the clear liquid into Harper's good arm. It would ensure he wouldn't wake up in the next few hours and wouldn't feel it when Rev set to work trying to repair his arm. 

Slinging the torn bag over his shoulder, he bent down and gently picked up the blood soaked, still form and cradled him in his arms as he carried him out of the room and into the small, medical room Beka had set up in another spare storage closet beside Rev's bedroom. 

The inside simply consisted of a bed and a few cupboards filled with odds and ends, some with medical purposes. An old dart board hung on the far wall, a source of entertainment for the many sick crewmembers who have passed through this room. 

Laying Harper onto the bed, Rev right away went to work. Rolling up the long sleeves of his robe, he tossed his medallion over his shoulder again. Although Rev hated to admit it, the heavy metal really got in the way sometimes. 

Over the next hour or so, Rev quietly and quickly tried to repair the damage done to Harper's arm. 

Washing the blood off of his face, neck and both his arm, Rev softly muttered a curse when the rag he was cleaning with got caught in his claws. Glancing upwards, Rev muttered an apology but still glared at the cloth. Using scissors, he cut the burnt pieces of tissue away from the deep cut, knowing that they were too badly damaged to be of any later use. 

Looking at the cut after he cleaned it up a bit, he muttered to himself, before coming to the conclusion that stitches were the only way to go. 

Turning around and digging through a nearby drawer, he sighed and slammed it shut before opening another one. 

"Some day I will have to force Rebecca to spend a day cleaning these drawers out and labelling them properly. A real doctor would have a heart attack looking at these drawers."

Finally finding a needle and some strong enough thread, he turned back to Harper and struggled for a few minutes until he got the thread through the tiny hold of the needle. 

Sitting down on the chair beside Harper's bed, he squinted at the cut before going to work swiftly and efficiently sewing Harper's arm back up. 

It was fascinating watching Rev sewing. Even though he has larger hands than even Bobby did and he has long, curved claws attached to each finger, he can still do small, delicate things which my captain can hardly do with two smaller, clawless hands. It's amazing. 

When he was done, he sat back to survey his work. The stitches were small and in a neat line and Rev knew that after taking the stitches out in a few days, there would be a scar, but it would be thin and tidy. 

Getting large bandages and clean white rags, he gently wrapped the tender arm in layers of soft cloth. 

Smiling to himself, he got up and started to put everything away. He washed the needle and the rag and rolled up the rest of the thread and put it all away. He scrubbed the scissors thoroughly and dried them and then put them away too. 

Turning back to Harper, he frowned and felt his forehead, feeling for a fever or any adrenaline shaking. Finding none, he smiled to himself and gently smoothed a strand of blond hair off of Harper's pale forehead. 

He glanced at Harper's blood soaked shirt and pants. He had attempted to cut the clothes off of him, but he knew how much Harper valued and loved his clothes and how devasted he would be if Rev ruined them. But, on the other hand, Rev couldn't take Harper's shirt off properly without moving his injured arm, and there was no way Rev was doing that. Putting a light finger on the bloody shirt, he felt that it was dry. Knowing it wouldn't do him any harm if he left them on, he decided to leave his clothes on. After he had woken up, Beka could help him change and wash the clothes for him and they would be as good as new. Or so Rev hoped. 

Glimpsing at a screen beside him on which I was monitoring Harper's lifesigns, Rev noticed that his heart rate had increased a bit. Harper was slowly fighting his way to consciousness. 

Pulling his robe on straight and putting his medallion back to where it belonged, Rev pulled a blanket over Harper, tugged it around him and made sure he was comfortable. 

Reaching up, he took a small device off a shelf. It was a miniature lifesign monitoring device, not unlike Harper's night time scanner. Punching a few buttons, he keyed Harper's lifesigns into it and then softly left the room. 

Shutting the door, he made his way down the corridor into the kitchen. Putting the scanner onto the table, he set about starting to prepare dinner for Harper and Beka. 

From time to time, he glanced at the scanner. It beeped reassuringly and regularily. If Harper regained consciousness or stirred even an inch, the device would start blinking and beeping louder and irregularily and Rev would be immediately alerted. Beka used to use it a lot when the old captain was passed out from an overdose or too much alcohol and he was resting in the medical room. It used to break her heart and frustrate her to sit there and wait until her father woke up, so she'd walk around the ship, taking out her anger in kicking walls and going up to the cargo hold and throwing boxes and spare parts around. But she'd always take the scanner with her, allowing her to be aware of her father's every breath and move. 

Database Records Archive: 58 (10084)

Specific Time: Two hours later

Grumbling and swearing to herself, my captain started talking a lightyear a minute the second she opened the airlock and stepped onboard. 

"Oh my god, if that idiot isn't the most annoying dumbass I've seen in my entire life, I don't know who is. I mean, he makes me sit there in that little 'administration' office of his for an hour—a damn _hour_—until he finally comes in and then he wouldn't sign the stupid form until he did a DNA test on my to make sure I was really who I said I was." Kicking off her boots and throwing the flexi onto the floor, she ran a hand through her hair and walked into the kitchen, where Rev was busy stirring soup. "I mean, I understand that the guy was ripped off more times than I was, but still, I don't have all day, you know what I mean? Then, at the end of it all, he doesn't even apologize for taking up all my damn time. So you know what I said as soon as he handed the form over and told me to go? I told him to take that damn attitude and shove it up his ass and that that's where the form he signed would be going too, except that I needed it. Man, you should have seen the look on his face—that smells damn good. What soup is it?—Chicken noodle? Yummy. You're the best—Anyway then I just marched out of there and laughed at everybody's shocked faces." She glanced around the kitchen as she paused to draw a breath. "Where's Harper?"

Rev—who had been trying to interupt her droning monologue for five minutes now to tell her about Harper—sighed and stopped stirring the soup.

"I'm afraid he had a little accident, one involving the slipstream drive and a nanowelder—"

"_What_!?"

"—Calm down, my dear. He's fine."

"Fine? What did the idiot do? Cut his arm off?"

"Nearly, but not quite. He got a pretty deep cut and received some severe burns, but I patched him up nicely."

"So, he's okay?"

He tried to sooth her frantic worry, which always kicked in when her maternal instincts went into overdrive. "He's fine. He's still sleeping off the drought I gave him and he has enough pain killers in his system that he won't be able to feel a thing even after he wakes up. I don't know when he'll wake up, but he's lying in the medical room, sleeping peacefully."

Immediately, Beka turned around and ran down the corridor and threw open the medical room door so forcefully that it banged into the wall so hard it left an indent. I didn't mind. I knew her thoughts were somewhere else.

Breathing hard, she tugged a strand of her blond hair behind her ear and rushed up to the bed. Immediately, her frantic eyes flew over the screens above him, reassuring her that he was still alive.

Looking at the heavy wrap and bandages Rev had wrapped his arm in from elbow to wrist, she bit her lip. Reaching over, she gently unravelled the thick layers until she could see his arm. The stitches looked out of place in the swollen, red skin. Bits of damaged tissue still poked out of the stitches and some dried blood caked his skin.

Her hand flew up to her mouth. "Oh, god." she whispered faintly.

Rev came in behind her. "It's alright, Rebecca. He will be fine. He can't feel any pain right now and I think the cut will heal quite nicely if he doesn't yank the stitches out of place in the next few days. There was any permanent nerve damage that I could detect. I injected some nanobots into him which should help with repairing the damaged tissues and nerves."

Her eyes refused to leave his arm except to fly involuntarily up to the screens to make sure he was still breathing. 

"How did this happen?"

Rev walked up behind her and leaned over to gently feel Harper's forehead. He still didn't have a fever. I was relieved. Knowing Harper's very shaky immune system, I knew that if the cut had gotten infected, he would be feverish for the next few days, but Rev had cleaned it up and disinfected the cut quickly and efficiently enough.

"He was fixing the slipstream drive and I assume he slipped or was startled and the nanowelder slipped and cut his arm. The pain engulfed him and I think he became confused over where he was. I tried helping him and calming him, but his fear made him panic."

"So how did you—?"

"He threw his knife at me but missed, thankfully. It threw him off balance and he fell onto his arm. The shock and sudden pain rendered him unconscious, allowing me to get close enough to him to treat him. He hasn't regained consciousness since."

Her emotions alternating between worry and relief, she gently reached over and squeezed Harper's fingers. Feeling no answering squeeze, she softly let them go and wrapped his arm back up. She kept on being distracted from looking at the screens and watching Harper's face for any signs of pain, so she got the white cloths all tangled and Rev gently extracted them from her grasp and wrapped his arm up himself. He tugged the blanket up to his neck and brushed another strand of blond hair off his still forehead. 

Beka had pulled up the chair in which Rev had sat and sat down right beside Harper. 

Knowing that she wasn't moving from that chair until Harper woke up, Rev went to the door, quietly saying he would bring her a bowl of soup.

She shook her head, her eyes not leaving Harper. "I'm not hungry."

"You must eat, Rebecca. Worry clouds your mind, not your appetite. Besides, you need your strength. You've had a long, hard day."

Nodding glumly, Beka sighed and Rev disappeared to the kitchen to get a bowl of soup. 

While he was gone, Beka reached over and gently held his fingers in her hand, her thumb lightly rubbing the pale skin of his fingers. Ignoring the small cuts and the callouses on them, she held them, waiting for any sign that he would wake up. 

She barely noticed when Rev came back in with a bowl of soup and a glass of water. He set them down on the counter behind her. 

She sighed. A small, guilty sob crept up her throat, but she swallowed it. "I should have been here, Rev. This wouldn't have happened if I was here."

"Beka, don't be ridiculous. There was no way you could have prevented that accident—"

"I don't mean the accident. I mean that if I would have been here then he wouldn't have freaked out and we could have fixed his arm up sooner. But no, I had to be off doing some stupid crap somewhere else."

"Beka, don't blame yourself for what happened. We both foresaw that something like this could happen, and at the end, everything turned out fine. Not perfectly, but fine. As for that 'stupid crap', you know that you had to go. You have a job to do and responsibilities to face—"

"Harper is my number one responsibility."

He smiled gently and put a hand on her shoulder. "That's why you're here right now and you'll be here when he wakes up. And that's all that matters."

Reaching up to her shoulder, she gratefully squeezed his hand. 

Taking his hand away, he pulled his robe around himself and walked out of the room, pulling the door nearly shut behind him but leaving a sliver of it open. 

He went back to the kitchen and started cleaning up the dishes he had used and putting away the dinner ware he had set out for Harper. Taking the soup, he covered it and put it into the fridge. As he worked, he hummed a quiet healing song under his breath and he kept on glancing at the scanner lying on the table. 

Harper wasn't only Beka's responsibility now. 

Database Records Archive: 59 (10084)

Specific Time: A few hours later, in the middle of the night

My captain had nodded off, sleeping in the chair with her head resting on the back of it. Her hand was still entwined in Harper's lifeless fingers. 

Harper stirred and moaned softly as he woke up. By instinct, the minute he felt awake, he forced his tired, groggy mind to fully wake up and cooperate. His eyes flew open and he tensed up, not recognizing his surroundings. 

His eyes widened and he stared around himself. When his gaze landed on his bandaged arm, he gasped and tried jerking away from it, but a hiss of pain told me that his arm wasn't ready for such movements. He was about to sit up and reach for his knife, but then he saw Beka quietly sleeping in the chair beside him. 

He relaxed when he saw her and slowed his breathing. His eyes lost that glowing, frightened look of confusion. 

He tried untangling his fingers from her grip so he could get up without waking her, but Beka Valentine wasn't as deep of a sleeper as she used to be. Having gotten used to waking up at the slightest sound from Harper in the middle of the night when he was having a nightmare, she immediately sensed it when he woke up and she woke up with a jerk.

Sitting straight up, she blinked a few times to clear her eyesight. Immediately, a worried frown creased her forehead.

"Harper! You're awake." She whispered, not wanting to wake Rev. 

He gave her a shaky smile, still groggy from the sleeping drought and pain killers. 

"Yeah. Looks like it."

He frowned down at his hand. "Man, this looks like crap. Is my arm gonna be okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Rev said there wasn't any permanent damage. After you get the stitches out, there should only be a small scar left."

He stared at the bandages sadly and shrugged. "Oh, well. Got enough of those already. Just another one to add to the collection." He muttered.

Beka frowned momentarily, but decided to let that one go. 

He gingerly turned his hand over, obviously impressed with the neatness of the bandage. 

"Wow. You sure is a good doc, boss."

Beka smiled. "Wasn't me. Rev fixed you up."

Immediately, the smile vanished and sick fear replaced it. He jerked away from her.

"_What_?!"

"Harper, calm down. Come on. Don't freak out over this, it's okay—" 

"Are you nuts? This isn't okay! A magog stitched me back up! A _magog_! Do you have any idea how crazy they get when they smell blood?"

"Harper, Rev doesn't go crazy when he smells blood. He used to, but now he's controlled it extremely well."

"Controlled it? What are you, drunk? Those things can never control themselves."

She sighed. "Harper, keep your voice down, you'll wake up Rev."

"I don't give a damn if I wake the thing up—"

Beka lost her patience. "First of all, shove the attitude back to where it came from right quick, and second of all, Rev saved your life so you better damn well care if he gets his well deserved rest or not."

She had used that harsh captain voice of hers and Harper immediately closed his mouth. 

He stared down at the blanket pulled up to his chin, but still shuddered when he looked down at his arm.

Beka sighed when she realized she probably wouldn't get another word out of him now.

"Listen, whether you believe it or not, Rev saved your life today. He didn't have to. He could have left you there and let you bleed to death in the slipstream drive. Hell, he could have eaten you if he wanted and you wouldn't have had a chance in hell to defend yourself. But he didn't. All of his instincts were screaming at him to take a bite out of you, but he didn't. He carried you in here, got himself covered in your blood, and spent hours cleaning you up and stitching your arm back up, all the while, praying that you'd be able to use your arm again. I know that you don't have a moral bone in your body and you won't ever thank him for it, but the least you can do is be polite. He saved your life, whether you like it or not. You don't have to thank him, but at least don't treat him like garbage." She looked at him, her eyes softening. He still refused to look at her and was fiddling with the frayed edges of his blanket. From the blank look on his face, Beka couldn't tell if he had even listened to a word she'd said. 

Leaning back in her chair, Beka put her head back and stared up at the ceiling. A heavy silence hung between them for a while, before Harper finally started fidgeting. The classic sign that he wanted to say something.

Beka didn't acknowledge the shifting around and didn't ask him what he wanted. He glanced at her, not sure if she was going to bite his head off if he opened his mouth.

"I'm sorry boss. It's just hard, you know? It goes against every instinct I have."

She sighed, that hard smile on her face. "Well, that's something the two of you have in common. You both are in a situation where you have to go against your instincts in order to be friends."

Another silence. Then: "He's gonna be taking my stitches out, right?"

"Yup."

"Will you be there?"

"If you promise not to run or try to kill him."

"I won't."

"Then I'll be there. Just like I am now. I don't leave you easily, shorty, you know that."

He smiled softly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. 

"Thanks, boss."

"You're welcome. Now shut up and go to sleep."

"Yes, mom."

"Shut up or I'll smother you with that pillow."

"Yes, boss."

"That's better."

Another silence stretched between them until Beka shifted in her chair. Harper glanced at her through the darkness. "That chair don't look too comfortable."

She snorted. "No, really? I would ask my back if it was comfortable, but its been numb for hours so I can't ask it."

"You can come up here on the bed if you want to."

Not waiting for him to change him mind, Beka scrambled onto the bed as Harper moved over. Lifting the blanket up, she crammed herself into the narrow space beside him, being careful not to touch his arm. Pulling the blanket around her shoulders, she closed her eyes and started drifting off. 

He shifted beside her. She slowly opened her eyes. "What?"

"Thanks for being here when I woke up. I was starting to get freaked, but well, you know."

"That's what family's for, Harper. When you freak out, they're at your side whether you're in heaven or hell." She yawned. "Now seriously, shut up and go to sleep."

Database Records Archive: 60 (10084)

Specific Time: Two days later

Harper had avoided Rev for the past few days just like he had done previously. Although now when he was forced to be in the same room as the monk, he tried being nice and giving short, polite responses to Rev's concerned questions. He still didn't look a bit comfortable being in the same room as him, but he was making a damn good effort.

When Rev quietly told him that he would like to take the stitches out of his arm, Harper shrugged in agreement, not looking at him. 

"Please give me a yes or a no answer, Master Harper. I won't touch you if you don't feel comfortable about it. We can stop at Topenga Drift tomorrow morning and get the stitches out at a clinic if that makes you feel more at ease. I don't mind either way."

Shifting around, his gaze briefly rested on Beka, who was reading a flexi and was pretending not to be paying attention. Torn between his instincts and his loyalty, he finally took a deep, shaky breath and glanced at Rev. 

"Nah. It's okay for you to take 'em out. Clinics cost more money anyway and they's always dirty and the people there do crap jobs. I feel a lot better having my arm in your care than a complete strangers."

Rev bowed slightly and turned to Beka to discuss what he should make them for lunch. 

A few hours later, Beka told me to engage auto-pilot and leapt out of her chair, hollering for Harper to get his ass into the medical room. Rev was already there, rummaging through drawers for tweezers and scissors. 

Harper came running down the hall. Breathing hard, he glanced at her.

"So you gonna stay with me, boss?"

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "Don't have anything else to do."

Together, they walked into the medical room. Rev didn't look up, but continued fiddling around with the scissors, not wanting to make Harper nervous by staring at him. 

Beka sat up on the bed and gave Harper a grin. "Come on, hop up here."

Tentatively, he hopped onto the bed, not taking his wary eyes off the magog sitting across the room from him. 

He was clutching the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles were white. Beka smiled at him reassuringly. When he gave her a faint, shaky smile in return, she reached over and took one of his hands and squeezed it. That seemed to give him courage and some color returned to his face and some tension drained from him. 

Rev continued doing useless things with the scissors, waiting until Harper was good and ready. He knew how close he would have to get to the human in order to take those stitches out, and if Harper jerked at any point, Rev could do some unrepairable damage to his arm and that was the last thing he wanted. 

He waited a while longer before he handed the tweezers to Beka. 

Moving the chair closer to Harper, he saw the tension seeping back into him and saw his face pale and saw his entire body jerking back. Beka squeezed his hand. 

Rev fiddled around with his robe, keeping his eyes down. 

Harper clenched his jaw and kept on staring at Rev. None of them said anything for a few moments until Harper briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Leaning an inch forward towards Rev, he gingerly held out his arm. 

Rev looked up at his arm, careful to avoid making eye contact with Harper. Keeping his hands in his lap, he carefully inspected the stitches and the still sensitive arm without touching him. He frowned at the slightly swollen, red skin around the stitches.

"Is the cut still very sensitive, Master Harper?"

He shrugged, his eyes staring at Rev in fear and apprehension, his thoughts far away from his arm.

"If it is, I can inject you with some pain killers before we start."

Realizing he had to give him an answer, Harper cleared his throat nervously. "It's okay. I can take it." He whispered, his voice shaking nervously, no matter how hard he tried to keep it even and strong. 

Rev nodded. "Feel free to tell me if it hurts more than you want to handle. I have the pain killers right behind me on the counter." He glanced up at Harper, his gentle, dark eyes meeting the scared, nervous blue ones. "May I reach up and start now?"

The muscles in his jaw jumped nervously and his eyes darted around the room, looking for courage. 

Beka squeezed his hand. "It's okay. I'm right here."

He nodded jerkily. 

Rev reached up and gently held his arm with one of his arms. Immediately, Harper gasped and yanked his arm back, sliding backwards on the table. His face pale, his eyes looked terrified. 

Beka slid up beside him. "It's okay, Harper. Take a deep breath. I'm here with you, remember? Everything's okay. You hearing me? Everything's okay." She said, her voice soft and light. 

He stared at her and swallowed hard, not saying anything. The fear still glowed in his eyes and he was shaking. 

Rev quickly pushed his chair backwards. "Beka, this is a bad idea. I say we wait until we reach Topenga Drift and you take him down to one of those clinics."

Beka sighed. "Rev, you know I hate those clinics. Rafe had to go to one when he shattered his leg into too many pieces for Vex to fix. They stuffed his leg so full of pins and crap that he couldn't walk normally. Hell, he couldn't even bend it. We had to go to a hospital and he had to have surgery in order to repair the damage they did. It cost us two frigging arms and three legs."

Mulling this over, Rev suddenly got an idea. Opening a drawer behind him, he pulled out Harper's knife. Harper's eyes lit up when he saw it. He'd gone looking for his knife the day before, but hadn't been able to find it. If he would have asked me, I would have gladly told him that before going to bed the day after he cut his arm, Rev had hunted around the engineering floor for it and had stuck into the drawer to give back to Harper when he woke up. 

Holding it out to Harper, Harper just stared at him suspiciously. 

"Why you's giving me my knife back?"

"So you can defend yourself if you feel I am threatening you."

His glance drifting nervously between Rev and his knife, he leaned forward and quickly snatched it from the outstretched hand. Twisting it around in his hand, he gripped it in a familiar grasp and laid it beside him. 

Beka was gently rubbing his back in circles and was squeezing his hand, giving him more courage. 

His knife in his hand and Beka beside him, he finally slid forward until his legs were dangling off the edge of bed and he was sitting right in front of Rev. He was still pale and nervous, but he looked more determined to do this. 

When he held up his arm and Rev gently took it, resting the soft, white skin against the fur and claws of his hand, Harper fought to keep on breathing and struggled to keep his arm there. Eyes staring at Rev's hand in fear and nervousness, I could see every instinct within him telling him to run. 

"Fight your instincts, Seamus." Beka whispered, rubbing his back. 

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his breathing had calmed and his eyes had lost that feral, glowing look of fear. He gave Rev a shaky nod. 

"Okay. I'm okay. I'm good."

Rev waited a few more minutes until some color had returned to Harper's face and he wasn't shaking anymore. Then he reached up with his other hand and cut off the knot at the end of the stitches. Using the tweezers, he gently and slowly started pulling the tough thread out of the tender, red skin. 

He worked slowly and gently, stopping every time Harper tensed up and looked like he would jerk away and he waited until Beka's whispering had calmed him down. 

When he got to the middle of the cut, he had to pull slightly harder to get the thread out and he saw Harper bite his lip and saw pain clouding his eyes. Rev stopped and glanced up.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm good." Harper muttered between clenched teeth. Beka got that worried frown on her face. 

"Harper, if it hurts really bad, there's pain killers sitting right behind Rev."

He shook his head. "Nah. It's okay. I'm good. Really. I'll scream if it gets real bad."

Nodding and smiling at the uncanny bravery Harper was portraying, he went back to work gently extracting the thread from the healed but still sensitive skin. 

By the time he had pulled the last of the thread out of the freshly healed cut, all of us could see the change in Harper.

During the entire time, Harper had relaxed more and more and the tension and fear had drained out of him. He was sitting there, still watching Rev warily, but no longer seeming so deathly afraid. I don't know if it was because Beka had whispered to him the entire time and held his hand reassuringly or because he could see that Rev really could control himself and meant him no harm, or maybe both, but he was calmer than I had ever seen him around Rev. 

Finally, Rev rolled the chair back and put the tweezers and scissors on his lap. "There. All done. Just be careful with that arm for a few more days so you don't tear open the cut, but other than that, you should be able to use your arm with no complications in a few days."

Harper nodded. "Okay."

Letting go of Beka's hand, he grinned at her. "Thanks boss. I needed that."

She smiled. "No problem."

He hopped off the table and walked towards the door, his knife held loosely in his hand. Before he walked out, he turned around and looked at Rev.

"Uhm, Rev?"

Rev turned around from where he was scrubbing the tweezers. "Yes?"

Harper glanced down at his feet and shifted around a bit. "I just wanted to say thanks. For everything. And, you're okay, you know? I know it took me a while to get, but I really got it now. You're okay."

Rev bowed in silent thanks before turning back to the tweezers. Harper slipped out of the room and went to find something to eat. 

Beka stared after him, trying to bite back a smile. 

Rev glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes and saw the smile.

Beka grinned and swung her legs as she sat on the edge of the bed. "He's amazing, you know that? He's absolutely amazing."

Rev smiled. "That he is, Rebecca. That he is."


	26. Chapter 26

The Diaries 

Chapter 26

Author's Ramble: I'm very sorry to report that these two chapters will be the last ones for quite a while now. I'm going away today and won't be back for two weeks, quite possibly three. I'm very sorry about that, but duty calls. I hate work. Remind me never to go looking for work ever again. Anyway, I nearly broke my fingers getting these two chapters written up for you guys, since I didn't think it was fair to just leave you guys hanging with nothing new to read for the next few weeks. I'm sorry I'm deserting you guys, but I promise, once I'm back in civilization, I'll make up for it. Just remember, there's three more years I can write about (_evil grin_).

Have an awesome summer guys and have fun reading!!

Database Records Archive: 61 (10084)

Specific Time: A week later

Rev was sitting at the table in the kitchen, quietly leafing through one of the many leather bound books he has. Most of them are historical, debating the origins of Wayism, its development over the years and which corner of the universe it had spread through first. 

Harper wandered into the kitchen. He couldn't help but tense up a little when he saw Rev, but he quickly relaxed when he saw the Wayist was absorbed in the book he was reading. 

He walked to the fridge, pulled it open and stood there in the cold, smiling at the neat jars and cartons inside. 

Rev glanced up and smiled in amusement. "There aren't many refrigerators on earth, are there?"

Harper smiled that tiny smile of his. "No. Can't say there are."

Grabbing a Sparky can from the shelf, he shut the fridge with his foot. Turning to the table, he gingerly sat down on the chair opposite of Rev's. 

Opening the can, he took a few occasional sips from it. He was shifting around in his chair and was drumming impatient fingers on the table. His eyes kept darting around, jumping from the can to the table to the ceiling and down again. 

At first I thought his tension might be due to Rev, but then I realized it was something else. 

After more nervous shifting and eye darting, he finally swore under his breath and got up with a jerk. Turning around, he yanked open the cupboard in which Beka kept beer and vodka for Harper and for the occasional client who needed to be properly encouraged with signing a contract. 

His hand reached for a beer bottle. Suddenly, I understood the shaking and nervousness. Harper's alcoholism has become more and more controlled in the past few months, but occasionally, he lost the constant battle of will with himself and succumbed. 

As his hand closed on the neck of the bottle, Rev glanced up from his book.

"I would try to refrain myself, Master Harper. Rebecca wouldn't be too happy."

Harper scowled, his eyes still on the bottle. "I don't give a damn whether she'd be happy or not."

Rev didn't even blink at the flash of attitude. He turned a page in his book.

"I highly doubt that."

Harper glared at the bottle in his hands. "Look, keep your nose in your own business, Rev.When and what I drink is none of your business."

"It's very much my business."

Harper rolled his eyes, his hands getting fidgety. "Oh, yeah? How the hell is it your business, huh?"

"As you're well aware, your health is that of a seventy year old Nightsider on his deathbed. Drinking alcohol doesn't do anything but encourage that rather appealing metaphor." Having said that, Rev went back to reading his book.

Silence met his words.

From the way Harper clenched his jaw, I could tell that Rev's words had stung him a little. His hand tightened on the neck of the bottle and he closed his eyes, fighting within himself. After standing there, eyes closed, his jaw clenched, he swore quietly and forced his shaking fingers to uncurl from their tight grip on the bottle. 

Dropping his hand onto the counter, he gritted his teeth and slammed the cupboard shut. Whirling around, he sat back down and swallowed a long gulp from his Sparky can.

Rev was quietly smiling at him over the top of his book.

Harper glared at him. "You can stuff that smile back down your furry throat where it came from."

Rev ignored him and continued reading. 

My com crackled to live in the corner as Beka pushed the button in the cockpit where she was flying. 

"Harper, could you turn on the stove please? I'll be there in a few minutes to start dinner, it's my night to cook anyway. Oh, but make sure you read the flexi I stuck on top of the controls before you turn them on." As my captain stopped speaking, static sizzled over my com and then abruptly was cut off when Beka turned the com off. 

Grumbling, Harper got up and went over to the stove. Beka had stuck a small flexi onto the controls. Reaching over, Harper turned it on. Immediately, green letters appeared on the plastic screen.

Harper stared at the letters, trying to guess what they said. He cocked his head from side to side, maybe trying to see if their cloaked meaning would be revealed to him when he looked at it from a different angle. 

I was momentarily confused as to why Harper wasn't turning the stove on, but then I remembered that my engineer couldn't read. 

He kept on staring at the green Vedran letters, fidgeting around and biting his lip, frustrated and anoyed at himself and the letters.

Sensing his discomfort, Rev glanced over his shoulder. Looking back and forth from the flexi to Harper, he frowned, not understanding the problem. 

"Master Harper, it's quite alright. The stove will not bite you. Feel free to turn them on anytime."

Harper sighed. Glancing at Rev, he swore again. Running an agitated hand through his spiky hair, he looked at Rev with irritation.

"I can't turn on the frigging stove until I reads this stupid crap on the flexi."

Rev raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand where the problem lies. The instructions on the flexi are quite clear."

Harper swore again and refused to look at Rev. Tracing a scratch on the old stove, he shuffled his feet.

"It wouldn't be a damn problem, 'cept that I can't read." He mumbled quietly, sounding almost embarrassed. 

Rev didn't even bat an eyebrow when he heard this. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" Leaning over and closing his book between a finger to mark his place, he squinted at the flexi. 

"The instructions say to heat one circle up to 250 degrees, and another one to just 75 degrees."

Without another word, Rev went back to reading his book. Staring at the flexi for another moment, trying to see where those words Rev had said could possibly lie in the strange, green squiggles, Harper finally shrugged it off. Punching in the various degrees in the small screen beside the controls, he turned them on and then sat back down. 

He ran a finger along the label of his Sparky. He stared at it, frowning and tilting his head around. 

He glanced up at Rev. "What does this say?" He pointed at the large label on the side. 

Rev looked up and leaned forward, but not too much. "It says Sparky Cola."

Harper nodded, lost in thought and staring at the can. He was probably marvelling over the fact that his favourite drink's name was made out of such a weird jumble of shapes. 

"What about this?" He turned the can slightly and pointed at the warning printed underneath the label. 

Rev leaned forward again, not seeming annoyed in the least by Harper's questions. He quickly skimmed over the words. 

"Warning: Do not operate heavy machinery or navigate the slipstream while under the influence of this beverage."

Harper bit his lip, thinking that over. "Oh. Oops."

Rev smiled. "Don't let Beka hear that oops. She might have a sudden urge to throw all cans of this sugary intestine rotting beverage out the airlock."

A tiny smile flickered across Harper's face. 

Harper went back to sipping his Sparky, occasionally looking at the label and the warning with a curious look on his face.

Rev opened his book again, but from the way he kept on glancing at Harper over the top of his book, I could tell there was something on his mind. 

When Harper started to shift around uncomfortably under Rev's continuous glanced, Rev finally put his book down and looked him straight in the eye. 

"Master Harper, would you like to learn how to read?"

Harper frowned at him and shrugged. "Don't know."

Rev tried to give him an encouraging smile. "I'm serious, Master Harper. I would gladly teach you. It would only take a few days and in the end, you would be able to read labels on cans, directions in manuels, even read messages Beka leaves lying around on flexi's. I don't mean anybody will force you to sit down and read through long, droning books such as these—" he pointed down at his book lying on the table. "—but your life would get considerably easier if you could read."

Harper stared at him. "You'd teach me?"

Rev nodded.

Harper frowned at him, immediately suspicious. "Why?"

"Does every act have to have a reason behind it?"

Harper nodded. "Especially the good ones."

Rev mulled this over. Normally, he would have dismissed Harper's insistence that there be a reason behind his kind gesture, but he knew that Harper wasn't accustomed to people doing things for him out of the kindness of their hearts.

He phrased his answer carefully. "Because I believe that if one person has a unique gift or possesses some knowledge, that the gift or knowledge should be shared as much as possible so other people can benefit from it as well."

Harper stared at him. He had obviously never heard this before. 

Rev delicately rested his chin on his hands. "So, would you like to learn how to read?"

Slowly, Harper nodded, still wary and suspicious. 

Rev moved his chair over and indicated that Harper should come and sit down beside him. Knowing how sensitive Harper still was to being too close to him or anybody for that matter, the magog moved his chair over as much as possible. 

Cautiously, Harper went around the table and sat down. He was tense and wary, probably half expecting Rev to stick out a hand and demand to be paid for this. 

Leaning over, Rev took the flexi off the stove controls and cleared the screen with a press of a button. Punching around on it, he quickly spelled out the entire Vedran alphabet, which consisted of 30 letters. Not all of them were letters, really. They were all individual sounds, some of them compound sounds. It was a mixture of ancient earth and Vedran. 

Moving the flexi over so that Harper could see it, Rev pointed at the first letter and slowly pronounced the strange letter to Harper. 

Frowning in concentration, Harper repeated the sound. Nodding, Rev moved onto the next one, pointing at it and slowly saying the letter's pronounciation. Not taking his eyes off the flexi, Harper quietly repeated the sound, memorizing the sound and matching the strange sound with the squiggle on the screen. 

They only had to go through the entire alphabet twice until Harper had memorized all the sounds and what letter or shape they were associated with. 

Rev could hardly hide his amazement. "Master Harper, you have an amazing memory."

Harper shrugged. He was the most modest person I had ever come across. Andromeda interupts me at this point with a weird look, which I laugh off. The pre-port Harper was no where near as obnoxious as the post-port Harper, but we'll get to those files later. The dataport didn't even come under discussion for more than a year, so we'll ignore it for now. 

Rev glanced at him, worried about pushing him too far, too fast. "Are you tired Master Harper? We can stop now if you like and continue this tomorrow."

Harper shrugged. "Whatever you want."

Rev sighed, pretending to sound frustrated. "Master Harper, I want to know what you want. It's your choice. You're the one learning."

Harper stared at the table, glancing around uncomfortably. He still wasn't very good with lording his opinion and his needs over other people's. With Beka, he had learned to be more open and felt comfortable telling her anything and telling her if something made him uncomfortable or if he didn't want to do something, but with other people, such as Rev, who he didn't know as well, his old silence still reigned. 

Rev leaned forward slightly, trying not to let his sadness show at Harper's silence. 

"Master Harper, do you want to continue tomorrow?" His voice was patient and soft. 

Harper slowly nodded, his eyes glued to the table. "Yeah. I'm kinda tired now."

"Alright. That's perfectly fine. I have to help Rebecca with dinner anyway."

Nodding, Harper pushed himself up and grabbed his Sparky can. Going to the door, he paused in the doorway and looked back at Rev. 

"Thanks, Rev. I really mean that. Nobody's taught me stuff 'cept for Beka."

Rev looked up at him and wordlessly nodded, accepting the gratitude without needing to answer.

Database Records Archive: 62 (10088)

In less than a week, Harper could read. Every night, Rev and him would sit down at the table and they would reel through the alphabet and then tackle simple words on the flexi, painstakingly stumbling through them. Later on, Harper even read some paragraphs out of Rev's book, although after a few sentences, Harper had frowned at him and demanded to know how much people paid him to read this boring junk. 

They had a few hard moments. When Harper couldn't remember a sound in the alphabet the fourth time they went through it in a row, he swore and threw the flexi across the room. Rev had quietly told him to calm down and that it didn't matter how many times Harper got it wrong, as long as he got it right later on. Scowling at him, Harper slowly let his frustration fade and went to get the flexi, apologizing to Rev and smoothing the dirt off it. 

They had kept the whole thing a secret from Beka, since Harper had wanted to surprise her with his new skill. The day when Rev had sat back, a proud twinkle in his eyes and had announced that Harper could read just as well as he could, Harper jumped up with a flexi from the mail call that morning and ran into the cockpit where Beka was flying. 

He crept up behind her and stood beside her. 

"Uhm, boss?"

"Mmm?" she didn't take her eyes off the slipstream route she was navigating.

Harper showed her the flexi. "This arrived this morning. Some belated birthday greetings from some of your old friends at Topenga Drift. They sent it over while we were passing by." He could barely hide his grin as he glanced down at the flexi. "It's kind of funny. They spelt the words belated and birthday wrong." He mused, trying to appear casual.

Beka smiled. "Did Rev read them to you?"

Harper slowly shook his head. "Nope."

My captain frowned. She risked a glance off the stream at him. Her confusion was evident. "Harper, then how the hell do you know they made a spelling mistake? You can't read, shorty, remember?"

Harper's grin widened. "Well, I can reads now. Rev taught me."

Beka gaped at him and nearly missed her exit. Almost dropping her controls, she stared at him. 

"You're joking."

Harper was shifting around, unable to contain his little hint of pride. "Nope. I can even read those big books of his. They're boring, but I can still read them."

A proud smile flickered over Beka's face. Telling me to engage auto-pilot, she leaned upwards and pulled Harper down into a bone crushing hug. Harper got a scowl on his face, but didn't pull away until Beka released him.

"Oh, my god, I still can't believe it. My shorty can read. My little mudfoot can read!" she gushed, never having been prouder.

Harper rolled his eyes, slightly embarrassed. "You don't gotta go all nuts about it, boss."

She waved his attitude away. "Oh, can it, you. We're stopping at the next drift we pass and I'll go out and get you any kind of pizza you want and bring you back some of that beer you're crazy about. The kind with that weird Irish name."

"It's German."

She waved that away with a scowl, but moments later, her proud chattering was back. "Whatever, but oh, my shorty can read! He can actually read!"

Although he rolled his eyes, Harper couldn't quite get that small smile off his face. It wasn't everyday that his boss praised him for something and he could feel proud for it. 

Neither of them noticed Rev leaning against the doorway behind them, proudly smiling at both of them as Harper smiled quietly and Beka gushed over him, having completely forgotten about her flying. 

Database Records Archive: 63 (10084)

Specific Time: A month later

My captain and Rev were sitting in the tiny laundry room I had. Beka was sitting on the washing machine, banging her boots against the door in time to the clicking of a loose nail inside the machine. Rev was sitting cross legged on the floor, patiently pairing and folding socks together. 

Beka was chewing on her lower lip and staring off, thinking about something. Rev glanced up at her. 

"What's on your mind, Rebecca? I can tell something is eating away at your thoughts."

Beka gave him a smile. "That obvious, huh?"

"With you it always is."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment."

As Rev folded some more socks, Beka stared off and thought some more, until she couldn't find a solution on her own and finally sighed. 

"Rev, I've had this thought nagging at my mind for the past two months."

"What thought would that be?"

"I think it's time I let Harper go out and do things on his own."

Rev raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think that's too risky?"

She sighed. "That's the problem. It's risky for him and for the people around him. I mean, he has the social skills of a sewer rat and radiates 'mudfoot' a mile in front of where ever he is going. People could smell him down the street if they wanted to."

"So you're not only worried about how he'll behave, what he'll say and do and such, but also how people will react to him."

"Exactly."

Rev smiled. "Rebecca, not meaning to put a damper on your maternal instincts here, but Master Harper has lived his entire life on his own and has come out of it in one piece. I reckon he can take care of himself."

"Yeah, on a backwater filthy dump maybe, but not on a tourist attracting clean planet. He knows how to swear better than a drunk Nightsider and can kill someone whose standing a mile away from him, but he doesn't know how to shake hands or to have a normal conversation about...about—I don't know, about anything that doesn't involve drugs, alcohol, sex or jail."

Rev continued folding socks. "Well, then you'll just have to adapt to that."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Rev held up an unpaired white sock with red stripes. "Does this one have a partner? I can't find it."

Beka rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that bright green one over there." She held up her hands when Rev raised an eyebrow. "Hey, don't look at me. I got them for free at that department drift I stopped at last christmas and they were giving them away for free. I brought a pair home for Harper and he liked them so I kept them. Anyway, what the hell does it mean I'll just have to adapt to that?"

Rev smiled as he fished around for the green sock and paired them together and placed them into Harper's pile of socks. "It means that if you want Harper to go out and enjoy himself, you will just have to find a suitable place for that. Letting him loose on a tourist resort is not a good idea, but what about a gambling drift or a sleazy little mudball planet with lots of bars and lowlives? Mind you, it's not the ideal setting, but Harper has grown up among people like that and he'll not only fit in, but he'll be comfortable and enjoy himself."

Beka rolled her eyes. "Mudball planet with lots of bars and lowlives, huh? Oh, why can't my engineer be normal and feel comfortable around normal people who live normal lives? I mean, who the hell feels more comfortable around hookers and drunks than nice people who talk in bars about cargo runs and trading contracts?"

Rev smiled. "If you are going to look at it that way, this is partly your fault Rebecca."

"What?" she cried.

"You took him away from the society he grew up in. Mind you, he is very thankful for you having taken away the bad parts of it, but you have to compensate for the good parts you took. Besides, give him time, Rebecca. It's taken him a while but he has adjusted to you and the Maru, hasn't he?"

Beka grumbled. "Why the hell can't this ever be easy, Rev?"

He smiled, tossing the last sock onto Beka's pile. "If it were, then every ship captain would hire a mudfoot to become their engineer and live with them."

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

"Harper!" Beka yelled down the corridor. 

"Yeah?" came the hollered response from the crew quarters. Beka ran a hand through her hair as she turned the corner and stepped into the crew quarters. Leaning against the doorway, she crossed her arms and looked up at him. 

He was sitting on his bed, playing some computer game on a flexi. He didn't take his eyes off the screen until she cleared her throat impatiently.

"What? I'm in the middle of something here." He muttered, swearing quietly when he punched the wrong button. 

Beka cleared her throat again and raised her eyebrow. Glancing at her, Harper recognized her captain look and immediately paused the game. Tossing it onto his bed covers, he looked down at her. 

"Okay, my ears are all yours my fair lady."

Beka smiled. "Good. They better be." Trying to smother her excited grin, she glanced at her finger nails. "We'll be docking on Durango Drift in about an hour."

He frowned. "Okay, that's great. I don't need more clothes or beer, if that's what you're asking. But you could get me more hair gel if you're going shopping."

Beka smiled mysteriously. "Well, you'll just have to get that yourself when you're walking around the drift by yourself today." She said casually, still looking at her fingernails.

Harper stared at her, momentarily not understanding. Then he raised both eyebrows. 

"You're letting me loose on society by myself?"

"Yup."

He sighed. "Alright, who the hell are you and what have you done with my boss?"

Beka laughed. "No, I'm serious, Harper. As long as you promise to behave yourself and don't wind up in jail or costing me any more money then I'm giving you to spent, you can go and do anything you want."

He stared at her. "You're serious about this?"

She nodded. "Wouldn't be standing here if I wasn't."

A mischievious smile lit up his face. "You mean I can go and do whatever I want for a few hours without you glaring at me and nagging me about appropriate behavior and social skills?"

She rolled her eyes. "As long as you follow simple rules, you can go and do whatever the hell your crazy little heart desires for a few hours."

He leapt off the bed with a twist and landed on the floor in front of her. He was grinning from ear to ear, crazy ideas already brewing in his mind. His eyes were nearly sparkling. 

Beka held up a finger. "Chain those happy thoughts until you've heard the rules, alright? And I'm warning you, if any of these rules are broken, it's the last time you're going out on your own."

He rolled his eyes, but restrained his impatient hopping around and grinning. 

"First of all, as I said before, you have to behave yourself. That means no getting into fights unless you can't help it, no landing in jail and no screwing around with anybody you're not supposed to. Also, I don't care how drunk you get, but make sure you can find the Maru by the time you're done because I'm not dragging my ass out of bed at two in the morning to look for you. Next, if you come home stoned or flying high on something else, I'm slamming the airlock shut in your face, got it? You know I don't tolerate drug users, even recreational ones. Lastly, I'll give you a little communicator which you have to keep and hide in your pockets the whole time. It's connected to the Maru and anytime you turn it on, you can talk to me or Rev if you need us."

He was rolling his eyes and sighing. "Boss, I'm not a little kid."

"Yeah, but I'm the captain and your boss and these are the rules I give to every crewmember who goes on shoreleave for a while. Especially crewmembers who are strangers to the places they'll set their feet into. So, are you going to follow the rules?"

He nodded. "Sure. I'll do my best boss. You know I never mean to piss you off if I can help it."

She smiled and ruffled his hair, earning herself a light hearted scowl.

"Yeah, and I'm the Vedran empress. Now get your ass into the kitchen. I have to give you money for drinks and hair gel and anything else you need and I'll give you the communicator and show you how to use it."

Database Records Archive: 64 (10084)

Specific Time: Seven hours later

Six hours later, a drunk and filthy Seamus Harper stumbled through my airlock and hollered in a louder voice than usual that he was home. 

Immediately, Beka came running from the kitchen, looking him over for any cuts and bruises. After she fussed over him for a while, even parting some spiky strands of hair to check for lice, she backed away, scowling and wrinkling her nose.

"Harper, you reek like alcohol, dead rats and sweat. It wouldn't disturb me so much, except for the fact that it doesn't smell like your own sweat."

Harper leered at her and waggled his eyebrows. "I know." He nearly fell over himself at that moment and Beka grabbed him. 

"Oops. Sorry 'bout that, boss. Ain't got so great of a balance when I'm drunk."

She grinned. "Yeah, I couldn't tell."

Pulling one of his arms over her shoulder, they stumbled down the corridor, Harper nearly falling into the wall and tripping over his own feet a few times, while mumbling something about 'not being so rightly coordinated when zuzzered', whatever the heck zuzzered meant. Beka ignored that and pulled him into the crew quarters and dropped him onto Vex's old bunk.

Harper landed on the bed covers face down and mumbled that he was quite comfortable and that she could leave him like that. 

Rolling her eyes, she muttered something about 'impossible men'. Grabbing his legs, she pulled them onto the bed. It was then that she noticed he wasn't wearing his shoes or his socks. She swore.

"Seamus Harper, where the hell are your shoes?"

He lifted his head off the bed covers, blinking around bleerily and squinting down at his feet. He had a little trouble seeing them so he wiggled his toes a little. Leaning a little towards them and frowning, he suddenly raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, I's missing my shoes. Sorry. Ain't noticed it." He slurred. 

Beka scowled and crossed her arms, glaring down at him. "Don't give me that bullshit. Where the hell are your shoes? Those things were damn expensive."

Harper stared around himself, blinking and trying to remember what had happened, but came up with a muddled blank.

He shrugged. "I's very sorry boss abouts that. I ain't know where they's went, but I promise, I'll goes and buys some new ones just tomorrow. That's right. Just tomorrow. I'll goes and buys new ones. I'd go right now and buy 'em quick, cept I don't think I could make it to the right store. I'd probably end up buying flexis and putting those on my feet."

Beka scowled, still upset, but willing to let it go. At least Harper was back safe and sound. 

Leaning over, she pulled off his jacket, ignoring his mumbled cursing. Dropping it down beside him, she pulled his blanket out from underneath him, rolling him over from time to time and ignoring the glares and swearing. Throwing it over him, she tugged the edges around him and then stood up. 

She stared down at him, smiling ruefully. "You need a bucket in case you hurl everywhere?"

He weakly shook his head, not having the energy to look up at her. "Nah, I's okay boss. We earthers learn pretty quick not to puke. When you ain't eat much, it ain't good to hurl it out when you do get some. I haven't puked from being zuzzered since I was eight."

Ignoring that last part, she rolled her eyes and gently ruffled his hair. 

Walking to the door, she met Rev, who was coming by to find out what Harper had been up to the entire day.

"So, how is he?"

Beka sighed and crossed her arms. "Drunker than Nightsider street scum, but otherwise, he's okay. He lost his shoes somewhere. He either sold them or somebody stole them, but asides from that, he's fine."

Rev smiled. "Well, we can replace lost shoes easily."

Beka sighed again and glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping form on the lower bunk. 

"Yup. We can replace those easily." She whispered. 

Database Records Archive: 65 (10084)

Specific Time: The next morning

Harper sat the table, hungrily shovelling mouthfuls of pancakes into his mouth. He was hardly taking the time to chew it before he swallowed it. 

Beka glanced over at him from where she was getting a hypospray ready for him. In it was a hangover remedy her father had invented during his own wild days and had left the recipe behind for his daughter to use.

Walking around the table, she injected him with the liquid.

He jerked slightly and stared at the hypospray. "What the hell was that?" he asked, his mouth full. She smiled wryly.

"That is what my dad used to call god's gift to drunken men. It's a hangover buster like no other. Your headache is going to be gone in a few minutes and you can kiss the nausea good bye."

He stared at her. "Wow. I ain't ever know there was something you could take to make those go away."

She smiled. "Well, now you know."

He speered another bite with his fork and chewed on it. "And to think how many damn days I went to work with a head the size of a planet and a stomach that felt like a solar storm and had Keeler yelling at me cause I was doing everything so slowly. Man, you spacers have everything easy."

Beka's smile faded at that last comment, but Harper didn't seem to notice. Shifting around, Beka decided to change the subject.

"So, what did you do yesterday?"

He shrugged. "Nothing much."

She threw a flexi at him. "Don't give me that. You were gone for six hours and came back missing your shoes and piss drunk. I want to know everything and every little detail."

He looked at her, eyes twinkling in amusement. "Even the intimate ones?"

She threw a spoon at him but he easily ducked out of the way, laughing.

Still laughing, he scraped the extra syrup onto his fork and licked it up. "If you have to know, I went to one of those department store things first and I went to the bar later. I got my hair gel and a new shirt that you're just going to love and I got you something too—"

Beka interupted, her eyebrows having flown up. "Me?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I was passing one of those racks with all those CD things glittering in it. So I went through them and found one you don't have so I got it."

Beka grinned and bounced around. "You got me a new CD? Oh, my god, I have a new CD! I have a new CD! Where is it? When can I listen to it?"

He smiled and shook his head at her, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly he was glowing, happy to have done something for Beka when usually it was always her doing things for him.

"It ain't such a big deal, boss. You get me stuff all the time. Anyway, it's in the bag I brought home with me. I think it's under Vex's bed .It's got my shirt and hair gel in it too—oh, that reminds me."

He twisted around and dug around in his pants pocket. Beka realized that they were the same pants he had been wearing the night before. Mumbling to himself, he finally pulled out a few credit chips and threw them on the table.

"There. That's your money."

Beka stared at the chips. When she realized that they were the same amount of chips that she had given to Harper initially, she frowned, a worried look creeping onto her face.

"Harper, this is the same amount of money I gave you before you left."

He nodded absentmindly. "Yeah, and it was such a big sum I didn't want to spend it."

She stared at him. "You mean you stole all that stuff? Your hair gel, your shirt, my CD?"

He stared at her as if she was the dumbest person alive. "Yeah, I did. So what? I didn't want to spend good, hard earned money on stuff I could steal with my eyes closed. Trust me, if there would have been more security and I would have thought I could get into trouble, I wouldn't have done it, but they're frigging lax down there so I thought I'd just do it the easy way."

Beka sighed and covered her face with her hands. "Harper, you can't just steal anything you want."

"Why the hell not?"

She scowled, suddenly angry. "Because that's not the way we do things up here! We steal what we either can't afford or what isn't for sale, not stuff from department stores. Harper, those people working in those department stores need money too and they need to live too. The way they get money is from people like you and me buying things from their store, not stealing them."

Harper looked a little scared when he realized how upset she was, but then quickly pasted that defensive, tough attitude over himself. 

"I don't give a damn about those people. Everybody makes their own lives any way they can. Everybody's got to fight for their own money and when I got money, I ain't got no intention of sharing it with others."

Beka's face softened as she sighed. "Harper, please. I don't want to start a fight over this. But please try to understand that you don't have to fight up here. Well, you do, but not so hard. It's okay to share once in a while and to give a little. I don't mean you have to throw everything out the airlock, but paying two thrones for a measily tube of hair gel isn't asking for too much. It's fair, Harper, and that's what counts. You didn't have a lot of fairness on earth, but we have a lot up here. Sure, we fight to keep what we have, but if we want something, we don't just take it and say 'screw you' to the other person. We negotiate and cut deals and offer something in exchange. That's how we do things."

Harper was looking at her. His gaze dropped onto the plate which he had carefully scrapped clean.

"I's sorry boss. I didn't know." He glanced up at her shyly. "I'll go return the stuff if you want."

She sighed. "No, you don't have to, Harper. Not this time. I want to keep my CD and you needed that shirt and the hair gel. But next time, if you want something that we could easily afford, please pay for it. We always fight fair until we've hit a brick wall and that's when we fight tooth and nail and say to hell with everybody else."

Harper nodded. "I understand, boss. It's just that, well, there's nothing but brick walls on earth. I'm just used to doing things differently."

She smiled sadly. "I know."


	27. Chapter 27

The Diaries 

Chapter 27

Database Records Archive: 66 (10084)

Specific Time: The next day

I'll admit it. I knew something was wrong with Harper the minute he stumbled back onboard. I hadn't done a complete scan on him, but from his respiration rate and immune system activity,  I knew something wasn't right. But, I had seen too many drunk people onboard myself and done too many scans on them to know that Harper's symptons weren't only due to alcohol.

The next day, when my internal sensors kept on picking up his increase in respiration rate and an increase in his immune system activity, I got worried and decided to run a detailed scan to see what was bothering Harper.

What I came up with wasn't pretty. Harper had somehow, in the space of six hours managed to pick up the Trillian Fever virus. 

To tell you the truth, I was worried sick but not surprised. From the past year and a half that I have done scans on Harper, I knew his immune system hardly existed anymore. Years of malnutrition, eating garbage, and living in camps and streets where the filth made it difficult to distinguish the people from the rats had all strained his immune system to the point of collapse. Diseases flew around refugee camps and streets like flies. He had grown up in places with no sanitation where people lived crammed together like sardines in a can year after year and the sick were hardly ever placed in separate quarters from the healthy. I had heard of a few, special cases where the disease was so serious that it even posed a threat to the Nietzschean guards. In those cases, the sick were isolated and killed to prevent the spread of the virus. But these cases were rare and far in between. Most diseases had been extinct for years and all guards who were in close contact with the people were vaccinated. But due to the filth and dirt which clung to everything and everyone constantly and spread at the same rate as diseases, it was easy to understand why no child ever grew up to the age of ten without having caught a barrel full of diseases which some people haven't ever heard of and some had been put into history books as having been wiped out centuries before. It was also easy to understand why most children never lived to see the age of ten. Due to the filth and the malnutrition which most people suffered through their entire lives, their immune systems were too weak and battered to defend them against a disease, and once they caught it, their poor immune systems weren't strong enough to fight them off. By the time they had somehow, miraculously, fought the disease off with sometimes just a sheer strength of will, their immune system was left in worse tatters than before. 

This was why Seamus Harper had the worst immune system I had ever seen. Of course, the constant drinking didn't help, but from running scans, I knew Harper's body couldn't defend him against anything from the time he was ten years old. This was also why Harper couldn't go within a mile of even the cold virus without catching it. Because his immune system couldn't defend him against it or fight it, his condition would worsen and a simple cold could precipitate into something much worse. 

This is the reason I became deathly worried when I discovered that Harper had a fever. To anybody else, a fever was no big deal, but to Harper, and earthers in general, a fever could be fatal. Right away, I started berating my captain and Rev for letting Harper go down to Durengo Drift without checking first to see what viruses were flying around. I knew that blaming them was a little pointless and they didn't completely realize the consequences their little ignorant error could result in, but still, I had to blame someone when my engineers life could be on the line. 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          

I monitored Harper relentlessly the entire day and by that afternoon, I noticed that the fever was starting to have an effect on him. He was having trouble breathing and was doing everything a lot slower than usual. But, my captain and Rev both thought this was just due to his hangover, so all they did was laugh and remind him how good alcohol was for you. 

Hours after him and Beka had had their little discussion about stealing in the kitchen, they were both in my cockpit. My captain was flying and Harper was crouching underneath the console behind the railing. He had the bottom of the console unscrewed and had pulled a bunch of wires and coils out from it and was busy welding, untangling and fixing. He had a box of new coils and connector wires in a box beside him and frowed in concentration as he tore out old ones and put new ones back in. 

As time went on, the fever started having a serious effect on him. He started sweating and shaking all at once and had to close his eyes from time to time to keep the dizziness which surrounded him from making him fall over. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering and rubbed his arms from time to time to warm himself up, even though I saw his normal body temperature of 36.5 degrees had climbed up to 37 in the past two hours. As I monitored, I saw his temperature gradually increasing by 0.37947 more degrees. 

As his shaking got worse, he swore between clenched teeth, forcing himself to concentrate on what he was doing. At one point, he fumbled around with a coil in his hand and dropped it to the floor. Swearing, he brought his shaking hands up to cover his sweating face and curled himself up, rocking back and forth, his whole body shaking. 

Beka frowned when she heard the coil falling onto the metal floor. Twisting around in her piloting chair, she leaned over and glanced at Harper. 

"Harper, you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm good, boss. I'm good." He mumbled, his voice shaking. He forced his hands down and clenched them together to stop their shaking before he reached down for the coil again. He swallowed hard and squinted, having trouble focusing. His eyes were feverishly bright. 

"I'm good, boss. I'm working."

Beka immediately frowned as she looked him over. The shaking, the sweating, the muttered sentences, they were all wrong. Not taking her eyes off him, she told me to engage auto-pilot and unclipped her seatbelt. 

Pushing herself up, she swung herself off her chair and hopped up the step and crouched down beside Harper. A worried frown on her face, she pushed a strand away from her face.

"Harper, are you sure you're okay? You don't sound so good."

He nodded jerkily and automatically. "I's fine, m'm. I's fine. I can work." He mumbled, trying to pick up another coil out of the box. When his shaking hand accidently pushed the box over and the coils and wires spilt out, rolling loudly across the metal floor, he gasped and yanked his hand back. 

He stared at her, his eyes bright and frightened. "I's sorry abouts that, m'm. I's sorry. I's will fix it good and quick, m'm. Don't worry. I'll fix it right quick. Please don't hurt."

Beka frowned. Sensing his fear, she immediately shuffled backwards.

"Harper, calm down. It's me here. It's Beka. Forget about the stupid box. It was a simple accident. Forget about it. I'm not going to hurt you because of it. Nobody is. Calm down."

He was shaking his head, not having heard a word she had said. 

"I's so sorry abouts that, m'm. It won't happen again. Don't tell Keeler. I'll clean it up right quick, don't worry about it. I's so sorry. Please don't hurt."

"Harper—" Realizing he had slipped off into his world of nightmares and pasts and he didn't recognize her, she reached out and lay a gentle hand onto his shaking arms, with which he was hugging his knees tightly, rocking back and forth while staring at her with wild, frightened eyes. 

They both jerked away from each other when she touched him. Harper gasped and his eyes widened when he saw her hand coming towards him and he jerked away, throwing up his hands, nearly crying. 

Beka had jerked back because of the immense heat she had felt radiating from him. Right away, she knew what was the matter. Harper was sick. Very sick.

Holding up her hands, she shuffled backwards again. "Harper, please don't be afraid. It's just me here. It's Beka. You know I won't hurt you. I'm not armed and I'm holding up my hands here showing you I'm not going to hurt you. I have no intention of hurting you." She spoke slowly and softly, trying to catch his bright, frightened eyes as he stared around himself, rocking quietly, shaking. "You need to listen to me right now, shorty. You're sick. Very sick. You need to get to the medical room right now and Rev and I need to get you some fever reducers or else you're just going to get sicker."

Slowly, she reached out a hand towards him, but he pulled away from her, still scared. He shook his head. 

"I can work, m'm. I promise. I can work. I's can have this console up and running in a second, you just watch. I can work, m'm. I'm good. Please don't hurt. Please don't tell Keeler. I can work. I'm good. I can work." He muttered the pleading, shaking words over and over again, still not recognizing her. 

Beka slowly shook her head, trying to sooth his fear. "Harper, I don't want you to work right now, alright? You're sick. You don't have to work—"

Harper shook his head forcefully, interupting her. "Always gotta work, m'm. Always. Ain't wanting to be hit all the time. Always gotta work."

Beka clenched her jaw, trying to keep her anger at Harper's former employers back as she tried to calm his fears. As she stared at the shaking, lost and frightened person crouching before her, she knew that gentle talking wouldn't help. Soothing words wouldn't replace the years of physical and mental abuse he had suffered at the hands of other people who had never been pleased with a sick Harper working slower than a healthy Harper did. 

Biting her lip, she suddenly got an idea. 

"Harper, I'm your boss, right?"

He stared at her and nodded, too terrified to say anything. His gaze constantly darted from her face to her hands, ready to leap out of the way as soon as she lifted them. 

"That means you have to do what I say, right?"

He nodded again, shaking harder. His fever was getting worse. It had nearly reached 38 degrees. 

Beka saw the shaking and the sweating and knew she had to hurry. Leaning forward a little, she kept her voice even and calm. 

"And right now, I'm telling you to leave this console alone and come to the medical room with me—"

He shook his head, his eyes clouding with fear. "No, m'm. I's gotta work."

She shook her head at him. "No, you have to do what I tell you right now, and I'm telling you to go to the medical room and stay there until I say. Do we have that clear?"

It was a brutal and rough way to go about it, but Harper still didn't recognize her, and Beka knew that this Harper responded better to orders and threats than he did to normal coaxing. 

"Yes, m'm." he whispered, his voice weak. Dropping the coil on the floor, his eyes widened a little and he bent back down to pick it up. 

Beka gently caught his arm. "Forget about the stupid coil."

He stared at her, still not convinced she wouldn't hurt him. "Yes, m'm."  He was talking too quickly, willing to agree with anything she said as long as she didn't lift a hand towards him. 

Pushing himself off the floor, he was shaking so badly he nearly fell over, but Beka grabbed his arm and slung it over her shoulder. He slumped against her, shaking and sweating. Beka nearly recoiled from the heat which was radiating from his thin body, but pulled him closer to her to keep him from collapsing. He was so weak he could hardly stand on his own feet. 

Half pulling, half dragging him down the corridor, she kicked open the medical room door and pulled him over to the bed. Gently lowering him onto it, she glanced over her shoulder and yelled for Rev to come. 

Turning back to Harper, she rolled him over and pulled him up until his head was lying on the pillow. Immediately, he curled himself up into a little ball, clutching his knees to himself. He was sweating so badly that his shirt was soaked in sweat and some strands of his hair were plastered to his pale face. His eyes were bright and still looked scared, but the fever was weakening him so much that he had to fight to keep his eyes open. 

As he lay there, shaking and getting paler as the minutes went by, his eyes followed Beka as she frantically tore open drawer after drawer. 

"Damnit, some day somebody is going to have to go through this mess and label all the damn drawers. Nobody can find anything in this mess." She muttered to herself. She glanced at Harper and saw it from the expression hidden in his feverish eyes that he wanted to say something.

"What do you need kiddo? Tell me."

He stared at her. "Cold." He whispered. 

She gave him a gentle smile, still rummaging around in the drawers. "I know, shorty. I know it's cold, but that's because of the fever. You'll be warm soon, don't worry."

Finally, she found an old medical scanner. Turning it on and punching some buttons on it, she turned around and quickly scanned Harper. Frowning and glancing at the data the little device picked up, her eyes widened when she realized how high his fever was. 

"Rev! Get in here! The kid's fever is nearly at 39!"

Throwing the scanner down on the counter, she went over to Harper and leaned over him to take off his jacket. The less layers he wore, the better. 

When he felt her hands on him, his eyes widened and he twisted around and viciously slapped her hand away. Curling himself up, he crammed himself into the furthest corner on the bed and glared at her. 

Beka yanked her hand back and rubbed it, the back of it stinging where Harper had hit her.

"Harper! What—?"

He glared, suspicious and scared. "Ain't taking my clothes, bitch." He snarled, his voice shaking. 

Thinking quickly, Beka understood. Holding up both her hands, she tried to calm him down.

"Harper, don't be silly. I don't want your clothes. I just want to take some of them off you so your fever doesn't get any higher. All I want you to do is take off your jacket. We can put it right beside you so you can keep an eye on it. How does that sound?"

He stared at her, still apprehensive. "Nobody's gonna touch it?"

She shook her head. "I'll shoot them first."

Licking his lips, he nodded and slowly pulled off his jacket. Gently, he placed it beside himself on the bed and immediately curled himself up again. 

At that moment, Rev appeared in the door. He was about to step inside, but Beka's eyes widened and she wildly motioned him back. The last thing Harper needed right now was to have a magog in the room with him. 

"Rev, stay there! I don't want to take any chances. He just hit me and I don't even want to think about what he'll do to you if he sees you."

Rev frowned, immediately worried. "He hit you?"

Beka waved it away. "Not important. Rev, his fever is nearly at 39 and it's climbing. I don't know what the hell he caught, but it's bad. What do I do?"

Rev held up a hand, soothing her panic. Pointing at the cupboard in front of her, he nodded his chin towards it. 

"Open that cupboard and you will find a small bottle of a fever reducant liquid. Fill up one of the hyposprays with it and inject him with it. We'll see if that has any effect. Asides from that, try putting cold rags on his face and neck if he'll let you near him."

Nodding, Beka turned around and rummaged around the cupboard, wildly throwing things over her shoulder and spilling them onto the counter until she found what she was looking for. With shaking hands, she put some of the clear liquid in a hypospray and then turned around to Harper. 

She was about to explain what she was going to do, but soon realized Harper was too far gone to protest or even realize what was going on around him.

His eyes were half closed and delirous looking and he was staring at her without seeing her. His face was pale and sweating and his hair and shirt were soaked in sweat and clung to him. He was breathing in raspy, harsh breaths and his lips were chapped and pale. 

Quickly, she injected him with the liquid and then tossed the needle onto the counter. Yanking open drawers, she pulled out a clean, red cloth and turned on the sink. Waiting until the water was cold, she thoroughly wet the rag and then gently wiped Harper's face and neck with it. The fever had so completely gotten control of him that he didn't even jerk when she touched him with the cold rag and didn't respond to her soothing words. 

When she was sure he wouldn't come back to his senses soon, she waved Rev inside. 

Rev immediately looked at the scanner, frowned and then gingerly felt the boy's sweaty, pale forehead with the back of his hand. 

His forehead creased in worry. "It's quite bad. It's much worse than I thought." He mumbled. 

Beka stared at him, nearly panicking. "Well, what the hell do we do?"

"Calm yourself, Rebecca. All we can do is wait for the reducer to take effect. If it does, then he should be fine by morning. If it doesn't, then we'll think of something else."

Tearing his eyes off the shaking, pale boy lying curled up on the bed, he glanced at Beka, who was twisting the rag in her hands, not realizing she was pouring water onto the floor while she was at it. Gently, Rev took the rag from her and wet it again and wiped Harper's face and neck with it. 

"You say he hit you?"

Beka nodded, chewing on her lower lip with worry. Her forehead had a permanent frown creased in it. "I tried taking his jacket off him, but he slapped my hand away and swore at me. I think he just thought I was stealing his jacket, but whatever the reason was, I'm not itching to take off the rest of his clothes. There's no telling how deep his delirium is."

Rev shook his head and sighed sadly. He gently smoothed strands of sweat soaked hair off Harper's forehead.

"It wasn't so much the fear of you stealing his jacket that made him lash out. It was the simple act of you taking his clothes off." When Beka frowned at him, he hastened to explain. "I've spent the last month or so reading witness reports people from slave planets have written and I've learned a lot of little things which explain Harper's behavior quite justifiably, such as in this case." Clearing his throat, he went back to the sink to rinse out the warm rag. "In refugee camps on Earth and Zarana and other places, clothes are very rare and hard to come by. People either get clothes by stealing them off other people or the dead, or by people who have gotten sick. It is considered normal for people who are sick and will die soon to be stripped of their clothing and for those clothes to be left in piles for people to fight and tear through. In most cases, the people who would take these clothes off the sick wouldn't wait until they were dead but would take them as soon as they realized that those people had no chances of ever recovering. When somebody feels somebody taking their clothes off, it's like involuntarily signing a death warrant. I've read of accounts where people were so sick that they couldn't even lift a hand and could hardly open their eyes, but when they felt somebody taking their clothes off, they would regain their strength and fight like wild cats until that person left them alone. It's their last struggle against death."

Beka stared at Rev in horror, suddenly understanding Harper's violent reaction. She swallowed.

"I—I didn't know." She whispered.

Rev smiled sadly. "Of course you didn't. Deep down, Harper knows that, but he's not in his right mind at the moment."

Nodding absentmindly, Beka tried to plaster a phoney, shaking smile on her face. Taking the rag from Rev, she went to Harper and gently wiped his pale, sweating skin, being careful not to touch his clothes.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *            *          

Three hours later, Harper's condition had worsened. The only reaction they had received from the fever reducer was a wild onslaught of nausea, during which Harper threw up all over the bed and Beka and continued hurling until his stomach was completely empty, yet he continued gagging and convulsing until Rev injected him with something to sooth the nausea. 

After cleaning him up, Beka ran the scanner again, only to discover that his fever had risen to 40 degrees and was rising. 

He continued drifting in and out of full unconsciousness. Lying on the bed, sweating so badly that he'd soaked his shirt completely through and his hair was plastered to his pale face, he was tossing and turning, mumbling incoherent words and shaking violently. 

Beka was nearly at her wits end and was swearing a mile a minute, looking at Harper's convulsing, fever drenched body.

"Rev, what the hell do we do now? Look at him! I've never seen anybody this sick in my entire life."

Rev was frowning and looked a lot more worried than he had a few hours ago. Neither he nor Beka had left Harper's side during the past few hours and had taken turns trying to get him to uncurl himself and washing him with cold rags, in which Beka had resorted to packing ice cubes into. 

"If we don't lower his fever some how very quickly, we might lose him. At the rate his fever is climbing, he won't make it through the night."

Nearly hysterical, Beka turned on Rev and resisted the urge to shake him. "Well then how the hell do we lower this damn fever?" she screamed at him. 

Rev refused to be moved by her anger. Just like Vex used to be. "Rebecca, if we are going to help him in any way, you need to have your wits about you. You aren't any help to anybody if you're hysterical."

Taking a deep breath, Beka forced herself to calm down. 

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" she asked, calm and composed once more. 

Rev was still frowning at Harper. "I think we will have to go to the extreme. His fever is climbing at a far too fast rate for any other medication to work. Besides, if they just result in him becoming nautious, we can spare him that." He glanced at Beka. "Any ideas?"

Beka bit her lip, lost in thought. Finally, she nodded grimly. "Yeah. A crazy, extreme idea, but it just might work. Rev, I'll handle things in here, will you please go and turn on the shower? Make it as cold as it will go."

Nodding and understanding her plan, Rev swept out of the room. Moments later, he turned the shower on. He kept the water luke warm and then went back into the medical room.

Beka had pulled Harper across the bed and slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled him to his feet. She nearly fell over when he collapsed against her, but remained upright. Wordlessly, Rev ran forward and caught Harper. Pulling Harper's other arm over his shoulders, Rev nodded to Beka and together, they dragged and shuffled their way to the bathroom. 

When they pulled him through the door, Beka paused to kick her shoes and socks off and pulled off her vest, leaving her shirt and pants on. 

Rev opened the shower door and together, they pulled Harper's slumped, shaking form under the water. It worried me to death when Harper didn't even flinch when he was pulled under the stream of cool water, but I pushed that worry aside. I was too busy monitoring his life signs. Beka had told me to run a diagnostic on the AG field generator. Yeah, right. I had much more important things to do. The AG field generator could wait. 

Beka felt the water with her finger. "Rev, this water's too warm."

Rev shook his head, pulling Harper's arm off himself and making sure he didn't collapse. 

"I'll slowly decrease the temperature. Having it on ice cold right away would have been too much of a shock for his body and could have had disastrous results.

Nodding, Beka pulled Harper completely into the shower. Not closing the door after her, she struggled to turn Harper around until he was facing her and she was holding him up, slumped in her arms. In two seconds, the stream of water had soaked both her and Harper. Water streamed through their hair and drenched their clothes until their shirts and pants clung to them. Her slippery, wet hands nearly made her drop Harper, but she swore quietly and tightened her grip on him, shaking a strand of wet hair off her soaking wet face. 

She glanced at Rev. "Turn it colder, Rev."

Wordlessly, Rev reached over and turned the water a few degrees colder. 

Ten minutes later, the water had been decreased to an ice bath and neither Beka nor Harper were standing anymore. My captain's arms had nearly collapsed after five minutes of holding up a soaking wet, fully dressed Harper, so she sat onto the ground of the shower and cradled Harper in her lap so the spray of the shower was hitting both of them straight on. Beka was shaking from the cold and her lips were starting to turn blue, but she scowled away Rev's concerned words and refused to leave Harper.

From time to time, she'd shift him around so another part of him was being hit by the water. After ten minutes of being drenched by the cold water, Rev went to get the scanner and took his temperature again. When he saw the results, he smiled. 

"W-what i-i-is it?" Beka asked, her teeth chattering. Wild hope shone in her eyes.

He glanced at her and then reached over to turn off the shower. "37.3"

Beka grinned and hugged Harper, although he was still lying in her lap, staring around himself with half closed eyes, hardly aware of where he was.

"You did it, shorty." She breathed. 

Beka tried lifting Harper up, but she collapsed against the shower wall, shaking from the cold.

Shaking his head, Rev leaned over, rolled up the sleeves of his robe and pulled Harper up. Dragging him along the floor and half carrying him, Rev went back to the medical room with him. Laying him on the bed, he grabbed towels and started drying Harper off. When he had gotten him as dry as he could, he pulled the light blanket over him and tugged it in. 

Glancing over his shoulder, he yelled down for Beka to take her clothes off and dry herself.

Leaving Harper there, he went to Beka's room and pulled out some dry clothes for her. 

Carrying them to the bathroom, he handed them through the door to her. She grabbed them and quickly pulled them on. Rubbing her hands together, she scrubbed her hair with the towel until she was warm and dry again. 

"How is he?" she asked, her voice still worried.

"He's fine. I dried him off and put a blanket over him. He looks a lot more peaceful than he did before. I'll take his temperature when I go back and see if it's rising again."

Throwing the towel onto the floor, Beka padded down the corridor in warm, wooly socks into the medical room. Following her into the room, Rev turned the scanner on again and took his temperature. 

He smiled again. "37.1 He's slowly getting there."

Beka grinned, fear and worry draining from her face as a sense of relief filled her. She gently stroked his cheek with her finger. 

He wasn't sweating anymore and he still felt warm, but not as hot as he had before. He even looked a little flushed, having regained some of his color in his face. 

His face looked more relaxed now and from the way he was breathing and his eyes were fully closed, Beka knew he was sleeping. 

Rev glanced at her. "I'll go make you some dinner, Rebecca, if you like."

Beka shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

Rev sighed. "Beka, I didn't ask if you were hungry. I'm making you something to eat and I'll force it down your throat if you don't eat it."

Not waiting for her protests, he left the room and went to the kitchen.

Beka sat in her usual chair, having pulled it up until she was sitting right beside him. Her eyes refused to leave him as she watched for signs of his breathing increasing or his eyes opening. 

After half an hour, she stretched, wincing over the ache in her slouched back. She yawned. I wasn't surprised. My captain had been through a lot today. Consulting with my internal clock, I realized that it was one in the morning. How my captain was still awake was beyond me.

Her head was dropping down and her eyes slowly closed as she started drifting off to sleep, but discomfort prevented her from falling asleep. 

Scowling and swearing, she looked up at Harper and finally got an idea. Reaching over, she gently pushed him over slightly and then climbed up on the bed, pulling the covers around her. Leaning over Harper, she tugged the edges of the covers over him and lightly smoothed stray strands of his hair off his forehead. 

"Good night, Seamus." She whispered, before lying down and snuggling in the warm covers and drifting off to sleep.

By the time Rev came back with Beka's dinner, he found both Beka and Harper peacefully sleeping beside each other on the narrow bed. Even though he hadn't woken up, Harper felt Beka's presence next to him, and by instinct, he snuggled closer to her. Beka didn't move away and didn't wake up.

Smiling, Rev left the plate with a sandwich on it on the counter and quietly pulled the door closed behind him, leaving it open a crack. 


	28. Chapter 28

The Diaries Chapter 28 

Author's Ramble: Hey everybody, I'm back. Hope none of you missed me too much :D (hint, hint). I actually got back two days ago, but I sat down and started writing like crazy as soon as my bags hit the floor. So, here are two more chapters for you people to make up for the last three weeks that I ditched you all. By the way, thanks for all the lovely reviews, they mean the world to me. Always have and always will. Have fun reading and rest assured, I'll be glued to my computer from now on until this story is done (my sister snorts as she reads this over my shoulder and says that this story will probably never be done. Sorry. My apologies).

Database Records Archive: 67 (10084)

Specific Time: Three days later

My captain was sitting on top of the washing machine, glaring darkly at the wall in front of her. From time to time, her swinging legs would kick the metal machine door with a dull thud. The noise didn't seem to bother her. 

I was in the middle of running through possibilities of what could possibly be bothering her, but I was interupted by Rev coming into the laundry room. It's so much easier to have your questions answered when somebody asks them for you. 

Rev paused by the door and patiently folded his hands in front of him and waited for Beka to acknowledge his presence. 

She didn't. 

He smiled briefly before clearing his throat. "Is something on your mind, Rebecca?"

She scowled at him but didn't move. "No, everything's perfectly fine. Didn't you know that I routinely waste my day by sitting on top of the damn washing machine, staring at a dirty old wall?"

I was momentarily insulted, but I let it pass. Just for the record, my walls aren't old nor are they dirty. Well, maybe a little bit. 

Rev smiled again and stepped into the room. "I doubt very much that you enjoy wasting time like this."

"I'm not wasting time. I'm perfectly occupied."

"You yourself aren't occupied, but your mind is."

She rolled her eyes at that, but didn't lash back with a sharp retort. Instead, she bit on her lower lip and glared at the wall. 

Finally, she gave the door beneath her a vicious kick. A rusty nail fell out of the door and fell to the floor and rolled around aimlessly. Beka didn't notice.

"Damn it, Rev! This was all our fault."

He raised an eyebrow. "You are going to have to be a little bit more specific than that. I'm getting too old to read people's minds."

She stared at him as if he was nuts. "You don't know what I'm talking about?"

He shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry."

Sighing and muttering a curse beneath her breath, Beka leaned against the _clean_ wall behind her and hugged her knees.

"Harper getting sick. That's what I'm talking about."

Rev frowned. "I just did another scan on him about an hour ago, Beka, and it came up clean. He's perfectly healthy again."

"Yes, but a few days ago, he wasn't perfectly healthy, now was he?" she demanded, a slight edge to her voice.

Rev still seemed confused. "No, he wasn't perfectly healthy." He spoke slowly and carefully, not knowing what words might send Beka off into an angry tantrum.

Sighing heavily from frustration, Beka briefly closed her eyes. "Genius." She muttered.

Rev held up both of his hands and took a step back. "I'm very sorry, Beka, but I don't understand. Why is this upsetting you so much? Harper is perfectly fine right now and is tinkering away on something I don't want to know the details of in engineering. Why are you still so upset?"

Beka sighed for the millionth time and opened her eyes again. "I'm upset because we should have taken precautions before sending Harper down there."

"Such as?"

She threw up her hands. "I don't know. Scan for any diseases down there, do a major scan on him when he came back, told him not to drink anything or eat anything that didn't come straight out of a bottle, junk like that. You know what I mean."

Now it was Rev's turn to sigh. He walked over to the dryer and leaned against it.

"Rebecca, I know why you feel responsible for Master Harper's illness, but you can't blame yourself like this. Neither of us knew what dangers he would be facing—"

"Yeah, but we damn well knew what could happen to him. We both know his immune system is a piece of crap and we both knew something like this could happen."

"—However—" Rev continued on, pretending not to have heard her. "We might have made some assumptions we shouldn't have. From now on, we will simply have to be more careful."

Beka rolled her eyes. "How? Make him wear an EVA suit everytime he goes down to a planet? He'll never want to leave the Maru again, and you know it. So what's our other option? Keep him locked up in here? He's not a little kid, Rev."

Rev glanced at her and smiled. Beka didn't notice the smile. 

Clearing his throat, Rev frowned and mulled it over for a few minutes. "Well, for starters, we would always have to make sure we do a thorough scan of any drift or planet he sets foot on and if there is any strain of anything contagious floating around, he stays here while we go and do whatever errands we have to do."

Beka snorted. "And what if the place is clean? You don't know what little viruses are hiding around in all those filthy bars and gutters down there. Oh, damn it! Why can't Harper hang out in clean places with clean people?"

Ignoring that last part, Rev thought some more. "Well, I suppose we would have to protect him any way we could. We could give him IB shots before he goes down and if he stays overnight, we make sure he carries some with him so he can inject himself. And on the subject of drinking, I remember seeing some tablets in the latest medical archive—"

Beka frowned. "What latest medical archive?"

Rev waved a hand. "I picked up an updated version of it from Vaticum Station when we stopped by there a few weeks ago. Anyway, these tablets are quite small and tasteless but they are a relatively strong anti-bacterial medication. If it is dropped into any liquid—for example, beer or something else—they will dissolve and kill any germs that were in the liquid or on the sides of the glass. I can order some right away if you want. As long as Harper uses them and we give him IB shots, I think he should be fine. Of course he still runs the risk of catching something, but at least he will be protected."

Beka slowly nodded. "Okay. I like that a lot better than just picking stations at random which we think are clean." She glanced at Rev. "Just don't make a big fuss about it or he'll throw one of his I-don't-give-a-damn-about-you-so-don't-give-a-damn-about-me tantrums and those can sometimes pull you right to the edge if you know what I mean."

Database Records Archive: 68 (10084)

Specific Time: Three hours later

Beka is sitting at one of my consoles in the cockpit, drumming her fingers on the table top and muttering curses and threats for me to work faster. 

I was once again running a scan on Harper. I quickly skimmed him over while he crouched in engineering, repowering some relays or something. After getting all the usual information, I quickly sent it running towards the console Beka was at and downloaded it and spat it out across the screen.

"Finally." Beka muttered. Yeah, I love you too, captain. 

Leaning forward, she slowly scrolled through it, frowning and muttering to herself as she scanned over the data. From time to time, she'd ask me to compare it to some previous data results, so I'd have to skip and weave among my medical archives where I keep this kind of stuff and sort through it until I found the one she needed and gave it to her. 

When it took me too long to locate an old copy of Harper's white cell count, I could see my captain was getting antsy, so to make her feel better, before I spat it onto the screen, I changed it's color from the drab neon green to a bright red. In small letters, I wrote 'sorry for the delay. Technical problems. Getting old' next to it. From the way she laughed and nearly choked at that, I knew I was off the hook.

Ha. You try that one Andromeda. What? What are you looking so appalled for? What? Oh, I get it. High Guard ships are never late with downloading data from their archives. Yeah, especially ones with fancy schmancy AI's. I can't stand not having an AI. I can't even stick my tongue out at her. Don't you dare look so smug, you artificial thing. Okay, okay, enough of the squabbling, as my captain would say. On with the interupted archive. 

Beka was still laughing and shaking her head at me, saying I was her 'crazy little Maru'. When she finally got over it, she frowned at the number of white blood cells and then swore a bit before scrolling down to compare it. 

Sighing, she bit her lip. "Well, everything's looking good on here. The usual crap, but at least nothing's deteriorated too badly since the last time we checked." Turning around, she yelled for Rev to get Harper a hypospray of vitamins and wrestle him to the ground and hold him there until he had given it to him. 

Turning back to the screen, she suddenly frowned and seemed to be thinking about something.

"Maru? Run another scan on Harper. This time I want it to be a thorough one."

Thorough one? What the hell is that supposed to mean? All the data I can get from the poor kid is on the screen you're staring at. 

"Let me rephrase. Instead of giving me current information, I want you to try to look at the information you downloaded over the past year and a bit and try to dig up past illnessness, allergies and other junk like that." She started punching around on the screen. "I'll make a new file to store it in." she muttered, frowning as she typed in commands and I dutifully made a new file for her. I had to throw out some old maintenance checkups to have the space for it, but I didn't think she'd care. 

"This way we can at least see what our Mister Harper already had to battle through, although I really don't know if I want to know."

When she was done, she pressed the button which told me to hurry my ass up and get working. Leaning back in her chair, she twisted a curl of blond hair around her finger and drummed her other fingers on the console. Patiently, she hummed an old song from one of her CD's as she waited for me to finish. 

Quickly, I did an in-depth scan of Harper and then threw all the new data into the jumbled mess of the old scan records and then started cross checking all the information with common illnessess, allergies and symptons listed in my newly updated medical archive—thank you Vaticum Station.

After ten minutes of having data zipping around me and trying to keep them from tangling up or snagging on other files and records lying in the way, I had finally come up with an extremely long list of diseases which Harper had somehow miraculously fought his way through. 

Downloading it all into the new file, I spat it out onto the blank screen which Beka was staring at. 

As soon as she saw the neon green letters flowing past her, she dropped the curl she was twisting and leaned forward, the worried, apprehensive frown immediately pasted on her face.

After skimming through childhood diseases—Pneumonia, Rubian measles, Troinium fever and other such ancient and typical gutter diseases—and allergies—Polyrubinum (a type of fever reducer), oranges and other such oddities which I bet even Harper doesn't know he's allergic to—Beka reached the last category of illnessess which I had listed on the screen for her. 

When I had first discovered these last diseases, I didn't want to put them in the file. Hell, I didn't even want to have discovered them. But I did. And now Beka had a right to know. I knew there wasn't anything anybody could do about them, but I felt Beka had a right to know. Besides, I doubted that Harper knew he had these. 

I had discovered 5 sexually transmitted diseases floating around in Harper's bloodstream. Five of them. And the kid was hardly a day over being twenty years old. 

Three of them were common strains which flew around unsanitized and filthy places such as earth faster than flies. Especially in places were concepts such as having protected sex wasn't something that ever came up and hardly anybody even knew about. The last time I had checked, the Than brought people in refugee camps food, clothing, blankets and medication, but they had always neglected to bring them condoms. 

It was the other two which bothered me. One of them was a virus which could only be transferred to another person when the receiver was extremely young, as in eleven years of age or younger. After receiving it, the virus settles into the person's immune system and starts systematically destroying what's left of it, which easily explained why Harper's immune system was even more crappy than most mudfeet his age. The only reason older people were immune from the virus was because at an older age, the body builds up a natural defence mechanism against the virus. This basically meant that Harper couldn't get it again, but he could easily pass it onto someone else. 

The last one shook me up as well. It wasn't a very dangerous one and wouldn't ever do very much damage to Harper's battered body. The only reason it disturbed me and bothered me so badly was because humans couldn't pass this this virus onto to each other. Whenever somebody got it, the virus buries itself into a person's internal organs and stays there causing severe and sharp internal pains from time to time, but not damaging them in any way. The only reason the virus wasn't as bad as the others was because humans couldn't transfer this virus onto each other. The only people who could transfer this to humans were people whose bodies had a more sophisticated design and their internal organs could fight the virus and pass it onto someone else. Only a Nietzschean male could have given this virus to Harper.

Trying to find her voice, Beka was making a visible effort at staying calm and collected.

"Maru, please give me more information about these diseases. I'm not a doctor. Just giving me the names doesn't do shit."

Reluctantly, I let her see what I knew. 

As she read, she got paler and paler, and at the last two, her hand flew up to her mouth and she swore and gasped at the same time. 

Staring at the screen in shock, she tried whispering for me to store the data somewhere in the file, but she could hardly get a word out. Knowing what she wanted me to do, I did it without waiting for her to regain her composure.

As she stared at the screen, sadness and horror fought for domination in her eyes. 

Letting her eyes fall down to the console, she stared at the plastic buttons without seeing them. 

"Oh, my god." She whispered. "Oh, my god."

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *          

I had never seen a monk speechless. After Beka finished telling him what she had discovered ten minutes earlier, I actually saw Rev speechless.

He was in the kitchen, sitting in his chair with a book closed around a finger which was keeping his place. He had glanced up when Beka had come in and had asked how she was doing and if she wanted him to order to tablets for Harper.

She had waved away his idle chatter and demanded to know if he had known that Harper was infested with more STDs than she could count. 

Rev had blinked at her and then had slowly shoken his head. No, he said slowly, he hadn't known that. 

Slamming her hands onto the chair she was standing behind, Beka reeled through the list and threw in symptons and side effects and how Harper could have possibly contracted them and when. 

By the time she was done, Rev stared at her, speechless. Clearing his throat, he shifted around in his chair. His gaze drifted onto the table, since staring back into Beka's steely, horrified and completely furious blue eyes was taxing. 

Rubbing his chin wearily, he sighed. "Well, Rebecca, truth be told, I am the wrong person to talk to about this. I know next to nothing of these types of diseases. My kind doesn't concern itself with such things for obvious reasons."

Beka rolled her eyes. "No, really? That's not what I want to know. I want to know how we deal with this."

"Deal with this? Well, Rebecca, I could try to talk with some of my more influential collegues on Sinti and other medical research facilities, but I doubt very much that they could provide us with any cures."

She clenched her jaw. "Well then what the hell do we do?"

"Beka, I don't think there is anything we can do in this particular case—"

"There is always something we can do, Rev. When it concerns my crew and my family, there is always something we can do." She said, her voice flat and hard. She was using her captain voice, the one which nobody argued with. 

Rev glanced at her and knew that she was serious. He sighed and thought it over. "Well, even if we can't do anything about the diseases he has already caught, we can do something to prevent him from getting more."

"What the hell can we do? Lock him in the storage closet for the rest of his life?"

Rev chuckled slightly, but quickly turned that into a cough when he felt Beka's piercing eyes on him. Now was not the time for humor. 

"I wouldn't suggest that. However, what I would suggest, is talking to him about having protected sex from now on."

Beka stared at him as if he was insane. "You want me to talk to him about _what_?"

"About having protected sex. With a condom. It might also do well to explain to him what sexually transmitted diseases are and how you catch them and what their consequences are and why they are a danger to other people he sleeps with."

Beka blinked. "I'm not going to have a discussion about sex with the kid."

Rev sighed. "Well, I can't do it."

"And why the hell not?" she demanded, crossing her arms. 

Rev sighed and rolled his eyes. "Because I'm a magog. I don't have sex the same way humans do and I obviously never use condoms nor can I get STD's. Having me discuss these things with Harper is pointless and redundant. However, you are a little closer to the home on this topic."

She scowled. 

Rev gave her a look. "Beka, if you don't do it, then who will? There isn't anybody else on this ship to do it and if we send him down to a medical clinic, they'll either laugh at him or throw him out in disgust."

Beka bit her lip, thinking it over. Rev's look softened. 

"It's not his fault he was born in a place where such things as condoms don't exist. They're a part of your world, not his. Besides, he trusts you."

Glancing from Rev to the table and then back to Rev, Beka slowly sighed. Running a weary hand through her hair, she blew out a deep breath. 

"Alright. Fine." She muttered. Turning around, she went into her room. Rummaging around in her bottom drawer, she pulled out a few packages of condoms and then marched towards the engineering room. 

Pausing before the door, she rolled her eyes and sighed one more time. 

"Why they didn't put this into the damn leasing contract is beyond me." She muttered, before pushing the door open.

He was lying half way underneath my reserve engine and was busy fiddling around with wires and little plastic electrical cards. 

He hardly glanced at Beka when she came in. "Hey, boss."

"Hey, shorty." She answered, trying to keep the pity from showing on her face as she looked at him. 

I knew what she was thinking. On slave planets it was well known that people matured a lot faster than anywhere else in the universe. Only having a guaranteed twenty or so years to live didn't allow them to take their time to grow up like normal people. Even though up here nobody ever heard of young children having sex or being prostitutes, on places like earth, it was as common as rain and most children's only mean for an income. I found myself drowning in pity for the millionth time since Beka had first let Harper step onboard myself. 

"Whatcha need?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the wire he clicked into the card before sticking it back into place. 

Taking another step towards him, she hid her hands behind her back. She had no idea how to bring the topic up, but waving a bunch of condoms in his face wouldn't be the ideal way to go about it.

She cleared her throat. "We have to talk."

He frowned at her and tilted his head slightly, wondering why she seemed so uncomfortable. 

"Do we have to talk now?"

She nodded, hardly able to meet his gaze. 

Frowning in obvious confusion, he dropped the rest of the wires and cards and pulled himself out from under the console. Leaning against it, he stared up at her, curious and a little bit wary. 

Beka opened her mouth about five times, each time trying to think of a clever way to breach the topic, but she finally closed her mouth, clenched her jaw, closed her eyes briefly and then took a deep breath. 

Opening her eyes again, she stared Harper straight in the eyes. 

"Harper, I asked the Maru to go into past medical records which she got from your scans and to make a list of all past ailments and illnessess which you have ever had."

He frowned. It was uncanny how his hair seemed even more spiky when he frowned. 

"So?"

"So, I discovered some things on there which kind of threw me a little, and which I don't think you know anything about."

"What the hell is it? Am I allergic to Rev or something?"

She smiled briefly. "No, you're allergic to oranges, but that's beside the point." Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge and blurted it out. "I found five STDs on your file, Harper. Five of them."

He blinked. "Five what?"

"STDs."

He blinked again. "And what the hell are those?"

"Sexually transmitted diseases."

He stared at her. "Okay, maybe I didn't make myself clear here, but I don't understand a damn spacer word that's coming out of your mouth. Talk common, boss."

Sighing and probably wishing that she was anywhere else right now, she slowly and as clearly as possible explained to Harper what they were. 

He frowned. "Okay. But I still don't get why this is such a big deal. I mean, we all—with the obvious exception of Rev—have sex, so why do you fuss over me having these things? Don't you have any?"

She sighed and wearily rubbed her temples. "No, I don't have any."

"That's not fucking fair. Why do I have them then?"

"Because I always have protected sex, Harper, and I doubt you've ever had protected sex in your entire life."

"What the hell is the difference?"

"Using condoms is what makes the difference."

"What the hell are condoms?" I have never seen the poor kid looking so confused, or seen my captain so embarrassed.

Briefly closing her eyes and wishing that she was doing anything except for having this conversation, she held out her hand and dropped the packages into Harper's lap. 

Frowning, he picked one up and stared at it. 

"What the hell is this?"

Blushing furiously, she ran a hand through her hair and refused to meet Harper's gaze. 

"Those, my darling mudfoot, are condoms. The instructions are on the packages."

He was still staring at the packages with a frown on his face. 

"So how often do I have to use one of these things? Whenever I feel like it?"

"No, my darling shorty. You use one of those every single time you have sex. I mean it. They'll not only protect you from catching more diseases, but they'll prevent the ones you have from spreading to other people. You always use them."

"Even with people I've been sleeping with for a long time?"

"Yes, especially people you've been sleeping with for a long time. God knows how many diseases you and your buddies have thrown around amongst each other over the years."

"But, boss, I've been screwing around since I was eleven. I've pretty much done it all with everybody. There ain't nothing else out there for me to catch." There was a hint of sadness in his eyes. 

She didn't smile. "Seamus, you might have caught all the common ones on earth, but there are a whole load more of them up here on the filthy docking stations and alleyways you spend most of your time at. You don't even want to know what goodies every whore in this system alone is waiting to give you. I'm dead serious here, shorty. These diseases aren't called diseases for nothing. They're dangerous."

He sighed and dropped the bundle into his lap. Scratching his temple with his finger, he slowly shook his head.

"Man, you spacers complicate everything, don't you? You have to eat with utensils, you have to wear shoes and you have to wear a whatever this thing is called." He waved a hand at the pile in his lap.

Beka smiled tightly. "Well, if you want to live to see your thirties and you don't want to catch or spread every disease in the known worlds, you'll wear one. Besides, if I ever hear that you did it without one, I'll lock you into the storage closet for the rest of your life, got it?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, boss. I got it."

Her look softened. Crouching down before him, she forgot about her embarrassment.

"I'm only telling you this for your own good, Seamus. These diseases could kill you. They probably will. Not now but sometime they will. Besides, your body can't handle many more of them. You've got to take care of yourself better, shorty. I'm doing everything I can here, but you have to do your bit too, okay?"

He looked at her and smiled that grateful half smile of his. He nodded. 

"Okay, boss. I'll try."

Leaning over, she gently wapped him on the side of the head. "That's my little shorty."


	29. Chapter 29

The Diaries 

Chapter 29

Database Records Archive: 69 (10084)

Specific Time: 2 months later

Harper grabbed a beer bottle from the fridge and slumped into a chair by the kitchen table. Using the edge of the old table, he knocked the lid off and took a long swig. Putting it back down with a satisfied slam, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded towards the door.

"So when's Mister What's-his-name coming?"

Beka rolled her eyes as she dropped a pile of flexi's and credit chips onto the table. 

"His name is Mr.Herringer and you'll remember that even if I have to write it on a flexi and weld it to your forehead. He'll be here any minute." Putting her hands on her hips, she gave Harper a stern look. "Now, remember what I said—"

Harper held up a hand. "I know, I know. Boss we've done this like a million times—"

Beka raised an eyebrow. "I've done this a million times, you've done this exactly three previous times."

Harper scowled and waved that comment away. "Whatever. Anyway, I remember everything I have to do anyway. I'm not as dumb as most people seem to think. I have to be polite, not ask stupid questions and smile whenever he says something that seems like a joke."

"And what if you weren't sure what facial reaction you should have?"

"Then I just look at him and mimic whatever look he has on his face."

"Right. And what if I say something about the Maru's capablities or our financial situation that's total bullshit?"

Harper smiled. "Then I smile and completely agree with you. Don't worry, boss. Keeler made me play this game more times than I could count, and besides, we've been over this a million times. You can trust me. I won't screw up."

She snorted. "You better not. We need this run badly and if you mess it up, I'll keep you locked in engineering whenever another client comes over."

"Relax, boss. I've been doing my bit. I've read every single damn contract you've kept in the Maru's records and besides, I'm not a newbie at this sort of thing anymore."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're not a newbie at manipulating people and at wrangling contracts, true, but you're a relative newbie at doing it up here with spacer manners and social skills."

Harper smirked. "I still say it's easier to get people to do what you say by holding a knife against their throat and breathing down their necks. You spacers do everything the hard way."

Beka was about to retort an answer, but she was interupted when a beep echoed through my corridors as Mr. Herringer pushed the small button outside my airlock. 

He was standing there, pulling on the crisp ends of his green and black suit. For a moment, all manners escaped me and I found myself pondering over whether or not this enormous hulk of a person would fit through my airlock. His boots were huge, as was his suit, but apparently, he had catered to his ego when buying it, since his belly stretched the thin fabric taut and a few buttons had popped off the front. His double—nearly triple—chin shook like jello everytime he moved his head. He was fiddling around with the collar of his suit, where the poor material was stretched so tightly to fit around his large neck that the poor button was nearly being torn in half. Swearing and muttering to himself, he grimaced and finally undid the collar. Immediately, the edges of it sprang away from his neck and he took a deep, satisfied breath. 

Clearing his throat, he reached up and was about to push the button again, when Beka ran up to it from the inside and opened it. Plastering her client-friendly smile on her face, she looked down at him. 

"You must be Mr.Herringer."

He nodded, his chin shaking up and down as he did it. "Damn straight, missy. That's me. And you must be Beka Valentine."

"Yup. You got the right address." Not letting her smile fade, she took a step back. "Come on in, everything's ready."

Nodding enthusiastically, he grabbed the edges of the airlock, grunted and then heaved himself up, nearly falling onto Beka as he tried to steady himself. 

Gasping for breath, he took a handkerchief out of his pockets and wiped his sweating face. Tucking it back into his pocket, he immediately started waddling after Beka down the corridor. Beka deliberately walked slowly, chattering away about the market conditions and the competition increase from Trans-Galactic in the past few months. 

He nodded from time to time, weezing out a "Quite right, missy, quite right" or "Damn shame, missy, damn shame" from time to time. 

When they reached the kitchen, Harper immediately sprang up, a bright smile lighting up his face. 

"Mr.Herringer." he exclaimed, leaning over the table towards him and extending his left hand. When Beka gave him a look, he yanked it back and stretched out his right hand instead. Mr.Herringer was still gasping for breath and leaning heavily onto the chair Beka had offered him and didn't notice Harper's mistake. Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped his face again and at the same time, extending his hand towards Harper's and shook it heartily.

"Seamus Harper, Captain Valentine's engineer." Harper said, that smile not fading. 

Mr.Herringer gave him a small smile. "Engineer and side kick I assume, huh?" He chuckled heartily.

Harper's smile brightened and he let out a little laugh. "You call 'em like they are, sir."

Pulling out his chair with difficulty, Mr.Herringer settled himself onto it, ignoring the creaking of the poor old wood. 

Beka went over to the fridge and pulled out two beers, giving one to Harper and the other to our new client. Mr.Herringer used his hands to open his, while Harper used the table. From the look Beka gave Harper, I knew Harper had to drink it slowly, since that was the last one he was getting for the day. Two beers a day were enough for our recovering alcoholic. 

Mr.Herringer cleared his throat as Beka sat down beside Harper. He nodded his head with difficulty at the pile of flexis on the table. "I'm assuming you read over the contract?"

Beka nodded. "I did."

"Any questions?"

"Quite a few actually."

He raised an eyebrow. "What are you, flash fried, missy? I put every stinkin' detail into the damn contract. What more do you want?"

Beka put her elbows onto the table and leaned forward. "All I got out of your stinkin' details was that there is an old cargo hauler floating around somewhere, whose crew were killed when there was a hull breach. The ship was hauling your cargo and you want us to not only strip the ship for spare parts, but to get your junk out of it and to bring it to its destination."

Mr.Herringer nodded.

Beka cleared her throat and pretended to look confused. "But I don't remember seeing one vital piece of information on the contract."

Mr.Herringer frowned. "What vital piece of information? The birthdate of the dead captain? Who the hell cares?"

Harper was struggling not to laugh. "No, sir, we just need to kinda know where the ship is."

Our client stared at them. "Well I don't know." He said it as if it was a personal insult to him to expect this from him. "All I know is that the damn thing left Aranius Drift and was supposed to reach Infinity Atoll. Obviously, the thing never reached Infinity. It's somewhere between the two."

Beka gave him a strained smile. "Well, sir, while we can haul cargo and do any salvage operation you might want us to do, we can't play detective for you."

When Mr.Herringer looked like he was about to explode at that and storm out, Harper quickly piped up.

"What she means,—" he put in, smiling brilliantly. "—is that if we would spend time retracing the route of the ship, then it would cost us a considerable amount of time and money, if you know what I mean."

Beka nodded. "Yeah, and I'm afraid we're rather strapped for cash at the moment."

She gave Harper a small kick under the table. She'd kicked him on the left leg. I knew what that signal meant. It meant Harper should try to get the guy to pay them early. If she would have kicked him on the right leg, it would have meant that Harper should have asked for an extra bonus and for Mr.Herringer to up the total pay. I love my little scoundrels.

Leaning towards the heavy breathing hulk of a man, Harper pretended to be absorbed in deep thought. Frowning, he glanced at Beka. "But, boss, I'm pretty sure we could do it if we had the extra cash. I mean, we'd only need, what—?" He waved a hand around, pretending to pick a number from my ceiling. "—about 2500 thrones right off the bat."

Mr.Herringer's expression clouded over and he glared. "Right off the damn bat? I thought we agreed that I'll pay you every throne of the 5500 when you delivered my cargo to Infinity. Not a throne before."

Beka smiled. "Yes, but that was the agreement we had made prior to us knowing that we would have to waste valuable resources and time running around a busy trade route and trying to find where your cargo exactly is."

Mr.Herringer glared at both of them. "This is all crap. You can forget about it. I'm going over to Trans Galactic or some other more reliable company where they can figure out tiny details themselves."

Neither Beka nor Harper's smiles wavered. Beka pretended to look concerned. "Well, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Trans Galactic is a very law-abiding company, just like most cargo hauling businesses, except for maybe ours."

He sneered. "And why the hell does that make a difference, missy?"

Harper mimicked Beka's concerned look. "It don't really make such a big difference, except for the fact that you don't only want your cargo delivered, but you want us to salvage that ship and bring you the stripped parts. And well, in salvage regulations, it says quite clearly that it's illegal to salvage anything that isn't yours unless it's been sitting dead in space for over three years or the owners said you could and you have legal papers."

Beka smiled sadly. "And I don't think you fit under either condition."

Harper shook his head sadly and stared at the table, sighing. Waiting for a few moments while Mr.Herringer swore and cursed them under his breath, Harper pretended to suddenly have had a brilliant idea.

"However, I just thought of something that might save your day, sir. You see, if you go with Beka and me, we can not only find your cargo and deliver it safely, but we don't have any qualms about stripping and salvaging something that don't belong to us, now do we, boss?"

Beka shook her head. "Nah, of course not." 

The smiles were back on their faces. Beka leaned forward. "So, how does it sound, Mr.Herringer? For a measly 2500 upfront we'll do all your dirty work for you without any fuss."

He glared at both of them, before grumbling something incoherent under his breath. Grabbing the contract, he signed it and then shoved himself up from the table. Rummaging around in his pockets, he pulled out a credit chip, typed 2500 onto it and threw it onto the table. Not waiting for Beka to escort him, he waddled down the corridor towards the airlock, swearing and muttering to himself the whole time. 

Opening the airlock, he slowly lowered himself to the docking station floor, weezing from the effort. 

Meanwhile, my captain and engineer sat in the kitchen, grinning and congratulating each other. 

"Boss, we're the best you know that?"

Beka grinned. "Of course we are."

Yelling down the corridor, she told Rev to get his butt into the kitchen and see what her and Harper had bullied out of their latest client. 

Database Records Archive: 70 (10084)

Specific Time: A week later

The operation went off without a hitch. I knew that Beka had no intention of spending weeks flying all around a deserted trade route looking for a busted old ship floating around. Making a few calls, she finally got a hold of a fellow cargo hauler her father used to team up with from time to time. After wrangling with him and argueing with him, she finally got him to agree to use his automatic location system to find the ship. Within a few hours, and a small price having been paid,—from Mr.Herringer's kindly donated 2500 of course— we knew where the ship was. 

It only took us two days to get there. Once we found it, the rest was a piece of cake. Rev and Beka went onboard in their EVA suits and fixed the hull breach and managed to restore life support. They wrangled around with it until they finally got it into a good enough position to allow me to attach the old ship to my side airlocks. Rev had asked Harper to come with them, since he was faster at fixing life support than they were, but Harper had taken one look at the EVA suits and had flatly refused. Beka had let it go and had quietly told Rev she would explain later. 

Once the the ship was attached to me and our doors opened, Beka grinned at Harper from the other ship. Harper looked a little wary about stepped from one ship into another, but Beka reached out a hand and pulled him over.  Once he was standing on his own two legs and had stopped staring around suspiciously and warily, he spied the many goodies lying strewn around the floor and hanging off the walls. A wide grin spread across his face and he pulled out a laser saw from his toolbelt, forgetting about the fact that he was standing on a strange ship. Beka rolled her eyes as she took off her helmet and told him to be careful and to first restore power to the ship so they could see something while they dug around for Mr.Herringer's cargo. 

Scowling at her, Harper was already scampering off, running fingers along pipes and cables hanging from the ceiling. Beka stared after him, laughing. 

Rev came up beside her, having just taken off his helmet. 

"He looks like a kid in a candy store." Beka laughed. Rev chuckled, before turning and telling Beka he seemed to have located their cargo haul.

While Beka and Rev set to work pulling huge crates down the deserted corridors of the ship and then throwing them over the step into my corridors, Harper was running around, lost in salvaging galore. 

After restoring power and making sure their quick repair job to the hull breach would last long enough for them to finish the job, he yelled over that he would get started on the stripping. 

There was unmistakable glee in his voice. 

Right away, he ran into the old cockpit and stared around, eyes shining. Using his laser saw and other little gadgets he had tucked away in his toolbelt, he took consoles and screens off their metal backings, took the controls off the piloting seat, threw flexi's and broken pipes and wires into a huge bag and even took expensive looking pipes off the ceiling and the walls. 

Then he moved onto the engineering room. In less than 45 minutes, he had nearly stripped the entire room bare. After gathering an armload of  junk together, he'd stumbled down the corridor towards my airlock, finding it meerly by a sense of smell. He'd drop the stuff into my corridor and spin around and scamper off to find more. 

I had never seen Harper happier. A happy grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes, I had never seen anybody go about stripping a ship and doing something incredibly illegal with so much joy. 

When he ran past Beka and Rev, grinning and completely overjoyed with a huge screen clutched in his hands, Beka just shook her head and rolled her eyes. 

"Just ignore him, Rev. For the first time in a while he's stealing things and ripping things apart and I'm not yelling at him. I don't understand why he gets so much joy out of this. It must be an earther thing."

Rev smiled. "I do hope he realizes he can't keep any of this stuff."

Beka sighed. "Well, when it does come to that, I vote that you are the one who restrains him and I'll quickly cart the stuff away. I don't like wrestling with wild cats."

Chuckling, Rev bent down and picked up one of the last boxes from the floor and slowly made his way to the airlock. Beka picked up the last one, shouldered it and followed him. 

After dumping it into my now cluttered corridor, she wiped the dust off her hands and smoothed a strand of hair off her face. 

Harper was already there, leaning against the wall with a smug and content look on his face, his laser saw swinging from his toolbelt.

Glancing around at the piles of expensive parts Harper had pulled from the ship, she smiled. 

"Well, I'm glad you remembered to leave the hull behind."

Harper stuck his tongue out at her.

Laughing, Beka pulled the old ship's airlock shut and then pressed a button and I obediently shut my own airlock. 

"Maru, disengage yourself from the ship and turn on auto-pilot please. Destination Infinity Atoll."

I immediately complied and in exactly ten seconds, we were leaving the broken, dead ship behind us and were on our way to Infinity. Andromeda interupts me at this point and asks me why I don't seem to care about leaving a fellow ship behind, dead in space and having been stripped of anything that might make her worth anything to passerby's who would help her. I simply tell her that all ships moralities are built by their own time and their captains. She doesn't answer.

Running a hand through her hair, Beka frowned down at the mess in the corridor among which her, Rev and Harper stood.

"Well, come on, gang. Let's get all of Mr.Herringer's junk into the cargo hold and all of these parts too." She kicked at a pile of wires lying tangled on the floor. "I think there are some empty crates lying up there which we can use."

Nodding, they set to work pulling crates down the corridor. Once they reached the ladder leading up to the cargo hold, Harper pressed a button and a small metal harness type thing slid down the ladder. Wedging three boxes on top of each other into it, Harper pressed another button and I pulled the harness up the ladder. Rev climbed up after it and pulled the crates out of the harness and slid them into a neat pile in a corner of my cluttered cargo hold. Yelling down, he told Harper to pull the harness down again. 

In the meantime, Beka had gone down the corridor to grab more crates. 

I had a small crew, but they could do whatever was needed to keep me running. And Andromeda thinks only High Guard officers are disciplined and can work hard. She obviously has never seen cargo haulers at work. They're the hardest workers I've ever seen who also have the hardest lives I've ever seen. The universe is always so damn fair. 

Database Records Archive: 71 (10084)

Specific Time: Three days later

I was in the middle of engaging in my favourite activity. Looking for docking space. I can't stand it when we arrive at a busy docking station like Infinity and I find these mini tourist gliders parked in the huge cargo spaces reserved for,—well— larger ships than a damn glider. I really just want to land on them and squish them into chunky salsa. Andromeda asks me if I actually know what chunky salsa is. I ignore her. Yeah, so I don't know exactly what it is, and I can't find it in my database, but Harper says it all the time, so I figure it exists.

Beka finally spied a spot out of the corner of her eye and yanks me around and we hurl ourselves towards it, going way over the strict 3 PSL speed limit in docking stations. There was another cargo hauler heading towards our spot, and as soon as it saw the competition, it sped up too. Beka was swearing and gritting her teeth as she yanked my controls around. 

The other hauler had had a tiny headstart, so it had a few meters of an advantage. When Beka realized this, she swore and was about to turn around and give up. Harper glanced at her and smirked to himself. "Need some help, boss?"

Beka scowled. 

Leaping over the railing, Harper reached up and hailed the ship before them. "Just leave this to good old Harper." He muttered as he waited for a response. 

As soon as the tense and obviously stressed out face of the cargo hauler's captain before us came onto the screen, Harper pasted a concerned look on his face. 

"Sir, I don't mean to be interupting the race for docking space here or anything, but I'm seeing these strange burst of sparks from your rear engine." Harper shrugged. "I don't know if it means anything or not. Not an engineer here."

Beka glanced at the cargo hauler's rear engine. There weren't any sparks in sight. She smothered her grin and immediately played along. Nodding, she looked at the captain.

"Yeah, you should have that checked on right away."

The captain's face paled and he stared at them. Right away, he turned around and yelled for his crew to cut the engine power and for his engineer to get her ass into the engine room. Frantically thanking Beka and Harper, he cut their connection, already half way out of his seat and ready to run to the engine room. 

As soon as static replaced his image on the viewscreen above their heads, Beka and Harper turned to each other and grinned like Cheshire cats.

"Good work, Mr.Harper."

Harper smirked. "No problem. Piece of cake, Ms.Valentine. Now get your ass into our well earned docking space."

Laughing until her sides hurt, Beka grabbed my controls and steered me into the spot, ignoring the cargo hauler which sat in the middle of the aisle, all power inside of it cut. 

I know I shouldn't have felt as gleeful about it as I did, but hey, this docking space just had my name on it, I swear.

Beka was standing in my airlock, arguing with the delivery boys who had come to pick up Mr.Herringer's cargo. Harper and Rev were in the cargo hold, checking the cargo and making sure nobody could sneak in there and take it before my crew got their hard earned money.

Beka crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows when one of the guys glared at her.

"We ain't get paid to put up with this shit, babe. We just get paid to cart this crap off this rust bucket and dump it into a storage hold. That's it. As I said before, we don't got your money and we don't even know how much you need. Whatever crap you and Herringer negotiated ain't none of my concern."

Beka gave him a tight smile. "And as I said before, nobody—especially you—is getting their hands onto even one crate of that cargo until I have my money in my own two hands."

The guy glared. "You can stuff those hands up your ass, hot cakes. It don't matter to me. Now give us the damn cargo or I'll shove you over and we'll get it ourselves."

When Beka didn't move, only glared down at him, the guys swore and spat onto the ground. Nodding at the other guys around him, he leaned forward to grab the edges of my airlock to pull himself up. 

A split second later, Beka had pulled out her gun and had torn off the safety and had it pointing straight at his forehead.

"I wouldn't touch my ship if I were you." She said quietly. 

Swearing at her, the guy's eyes roamed around my hull and then spied the cargo hold top. Jerking his head up, he glanced at one of his guys.

"Get your ass up there, Mattie."

Mattie gave him a cool nod, sneered at Beka and grabbed the sides of my hull. Beka didn't take her eyes off the other guys as Mattie pulled himself up and stood on the platform below my cargo hold. As he tilted his head and pondered on how he was going to get up to the top of it, Beka quietly pressed a tiny button by the side of her ear. The tiny transmitter she had tucked behind her ear was barely visible and all the other guys were too busy watching Mattie's climbing to notice her pushing the button.

Seconds after she pushed it, Harper glanced down at his waist, where he had hung the other transmitter to his toolbelt. It was blinking red. Not wasting a moment, he ran over to the wall of my cargo hold and scampered up it.

Rev glanced up from where he was patrolling the ladder leading up to my hold. 

"Be careful, Master Harper." He whispered as he worriedly stared at the small human climbing soundlessly up my wall, using the pipes and ridges with more skill and grace than an alley cat. 

"Yeah, yeah." Harper muttered quietly. "Worry wart." 

Rev rolled his eyes, but that uneasy feeling stayed with him even after Harper shot him a grin over his shoulder.

Reaching the top, Harper opened the little side door he had made a few months ago for just such emergencies. Wriggling out of it, he quietly shut it with his foot and in the same motion grabbed his gun and his knife from his pant leg. 

Soundlessly standing up, he calmly took the safety off his gun and pointed it straight at the edge of the cargo hold. Walking a few steps forward until he was looking over the edge, he pointed his gun straight down, right at Mattie's head.

It took Mattie a moment to register that there was somebody standing above him. With a jerk, his face paled and he took an alarmed step back. When he nearly fell off the edge of the platform, he managed to stay up, flayling his arms around. 

Looking slightly shaken, he glanced down at the guy who had sent him up there.

When that guy rolled his eyes and yelled up that he could easily take him, after all, how much damage could a little guy like that one up there do with a small gun and a pathetic knife? Thinking that over, Mattie turned back and rolled his sleeves up. Grabbing the bottom of the cargo hold, he was about to try and climb up it, but Harper was faster.

Twirling his knife in his hand, he brought it up and threw it down at Mattie. It whistled through the air, and before Mattie had even realized what was happening, the knife had cut a gash across his face, cutting him open from his nose down diagonally to his chin. With a scream, Mattie let go of the metal ridge he had been clinging to and heavily fell to the platform below. Clutching his face, he screamed out a curse when he realized blood was pouring down his face.

Shaking, he pushed himself up and glared up at Harper. Then he whirled and glared down at the guy who had sent him up.

"What the fuck was that stupid crap about him not being able to do anything with a pathetic knife, huh? Look at me!" he screamed down.

The other guys down there were staring up at Harper, who remained as motionless and silent as Beka, quietly glaring down at them, both of their eyes blazing and dangerous.

The guy who had yelled at Beka ignored Mattie's cursing and trembling and glanced at the guys around him.

"Come on, get your asses up there. What the hell are you waiting for? Just ignore the bitch, watch the knife and take the shorty up there down." When none of the moved, simply shifted around, staring around uncertainly, he got impatient. "Move your lazy asses!" he yelled.

Muttering amongst themselves and giving Beka and Harper wary looks, they gradually started climbing up the cargo hold. 

Beka could see Harper readying his gun out of the corner of her eye. Reaching up to her ear, she clicked on the audio com link. 

"Don't shoot any of them. Just call Rev up. He'll scare them off. We still need these guys to lug this stuff to the storage hold and we need our money. We won't get either if they're dead." She muttered, not taking her eyes off the guy still standing below her. He hadn't heard her though. He was busy squinting up at the rest of his guys scampering up my hull towards my cargo hold. 

When he heard her, Harper quietly turned the safety back on his gun, in case his finger slipped during the fighting he was expecting to follow. Turning around, he quietly kicked the cargo hold's side door open and whispered down for Rev to come up here.

I will never be more grateful for a Magog's keen hearing. Rev heard the whispered words even though he was still standing by the ladder. He immediately spun around. Grabbing a rope from a crate beside him, he threw it up to the open door. Harper caught it behind his back while keeping one eye on the edge of the cargo hold in case our lovely guests came up too soon. Crouching down, he tied it through a rusty hole in a ridge beside him. Pulling on it, Rev nodded and quickly climbed up. 

Once he reached the door, he wriggled through with Harper's help and then crawled along the top, careful not to be seen too early. It would spoil the surprise and fun. 

As Harper watched him move slightly over and then come to a stop, crouching on his heels, Harper could hardly suppress the grin on his face. 

I nearly pitied them. Nearly. But as I saw how they were kicking dents into my hull and scratching it, trying to pull themselves up using their guns, I lost all sympathy.

Harper didn't move and Rev remained motionless as the first few reached the top, grunting and swearing. Gasping for breath, they pushed themselves up and then turned around to pull their buddies up too. The guy on the ground hollered up for them to hurry up and get into the hold. Muttering amongst themselves, they spat on my hull, wiped the sweat off their foreheads and glared down at the guy standing on the ground.

Harper suddenly cleared his throat. Slowly turning around, they stared him up and down. All of them were a good few inches taller than him, and when they realized how easy it was going to be, they all started smirking and chuckling amongst each other.

Harper stared at them, letting his cold, piercing gaze travel from one to the other. 

"So, since it's basically a hundred to one right now, I don't think you guys would mind if one of my buddies helps me out a little, do ya? I mean, fair's fair. Two against the rest of you is slightly better than just me." Harper gave them that feral, dangerous grin of his. "But don't worry. He's not much taller than me. But he's got sharper teeth."

In the silence that followed, the guys exchanged glances, shifted around and muttered amongst each other, some of them getting spooked from the strange smile Harper was giving them. 

Suddenly, Rev stood up behind them. He had taken off his cloak and left it on the floor beside him and had flung his medallion over his neck. For all the world, he looked as savage and ruthless as the rest of his kind.

Growling, he hissed at them. All of them whirled around and immediately, panic ensued. For a split second, they all stood there, frozen, their eyes wide with fear and their faces drained from all blood. Then all hell broke loose.

Screaming and shaking uncontrollably, they stumbled over each other to climb down the cargo hold. Swearing at each other to hurry up, some were cursing and others were just muttering "Magog, magog. They've got a fucking magog on this ship." And "They're nuts! They're nuts! Let me off this psycho ship!"

Rev snarled at them and swiped at them with a claw. Some of them decided that jumping to their deaths was better than staying there a second longer with Rev and forgot about climbing down and jumped down to the ground, nearly breaking their legs in the progress.

When they had all reached the ground, they stood up, clustering together in a huddled, shaking mess, glancing up at the cargo hold with terrified looks. 

The guy on the ground couldn't tear his eyes off Rev standing up there. He seemed to have completely lost the ability to speak. Pale and obviously shaken, he stared upwards, his eyes huge and filled with fear. Blinking once and swallowing, he slowly regained his composure. 

He stared at Beka. "Are you nuts?" he screamed at her.

Beka smiled tightly. "No. I just want my money."

He stared up at her. Glancing over at his shaken, terrified men, he made a split decision. Swallowing hard, he looked up at her.

"Okay, listen close. I'll contact Herringer, get you the money and then we'll take the cargo. But we're only coming onboard if that—that—thing is locked up in chains somewhere, got it?"

Beka smiled sweetly. "Now you're talking. But I can't promise the locking up in chains part, but I promise, he won't be in your way. Now, take your buddies and scamper off and get me my money. I'll be here until tonight." Turning around, she blew a kiss at him and was about to slam the airlock shut, but then poked her head back out. "And oh, by the way. When a captain tells you not to touch her ship, it would be a lot better for you if you listened." Smiling sweetly, she slammed the airlock shut in his face.

Muttering amongst each other about crazy cargo haulers and crazy women in general, they slowly stumbled out of the station, one of them already trying to call Mr.Herringer on his communicator. 

Meanwhile, Harper and Rev swung down from the cargo hold and landed on the corridor floor. Beka stood leaning against a wall, grinning at them.

"What can I say? We're the best, guys."

Rev chuckled. "We might use unconventional methods, but they work."

Beka and Harper both laughed. "Long live unconvectional." Harper said between laughs as they started walking down the corridor.

Beka looked at him, trying to hide her smile. "It's unconventional, shorty, not unconvectional."

Harper scowled and pretended to look insulted. "Same difference." He muttered.

Laughing, Beka put her arm around his shoulders and linked her other arm through Rev's. Chuckling, they made their way down my corridor, ready to spend the afternoon playing cards while we waited for our darling guests to come back with Mr.Herringer's money.


	30. Chapter 30

The Diaries 

Chapter 30

Author's Ramble: Kleenex warning, people!! This next part's angsty and upsetting, but hey, you gotta love it. Anyway, have fun with that, don't cry all over your keyboards, and tell me whether you loved it or hated it. 

And as always, thanks for the lovely feedback. I love every little word you guys give me (yes, even the nagging ones *cough* Paris *cough* J) Feedback's always appreciated and makes me write faster, as you undoubtly know.

Database Records Archive: 72 (10084)

Specific Time: Four hours later

We got our money about half an hour ago. The delivery boys had come back and wordlessly handed over the credit chip with the 3000 thrones on it. Then they had quietly and efficiently taken all the cargo, constantly throwing fearful glances over their shoulders and looking for any hidden magog to jump on them. 

Beka swears she'd never seen cargo being moved quicker. 

After we had gotten our money and the bills were all covered, Beka had quickly skimmed over the record book and determined that we could afford to take the rest of the week off.

Harper had right away asked if he could go out and party his way around Infinity. Having heard enough to fill a tourist book about Infinity, he had never actually set foot on the tourist attracting planet. I couldn't blame him for his enthusiasm. Infinity's beaches with their white, filtered sand and sparkling oceans and the surrounding palm trees and breath taking scenery (ignoring the few holographically created ones) were a part of every person's dream. 

Beka rolled her eyes and said she'd take him down, as long as he wouldn't fuss over the IB shots and taking some tablets with him for drinks she'd buy him. 

Scowling for a minute, he immediately looked at the long term deal she was giving him and ran towards the medical room. 

Winking at Rev, Beka pushed herself up from the table and grabbed a credit chip and tugged it into her pockets. 

"Well, I'm off. Harper and I'll hit the beaches and I'll show him the surfers. Bet the kid's never seen them before in his life." She yawned.

Rev glanced up at her from the book he was reading. "You do know that he won't let you come back without having visited a few bars first?"

Beka smiled. "Yeah, I already thought that part over. Oh, well. The kid doesn't weigh that much—unfortunately. I don't mind dragging his drunken ass back here."

Rev chuckled. "Well, not to sound insulting or anything, but I won't mind the peace and quiet. I've got some major meditiation to do that is extremely over due. My reverend collegues would be appalled."

Harper ran down the corridor and into the kitchen, holding up three empty IB hyposprays. Frowning at him, she grabbed his arm, shoved his shirt up and examined his arm to make sure he had actually taken the shots. 

Nodding to herself, she glanced up at him. "You got the tablets?"

Scowling, Harper dug around in his pockets until he pulled out the little bottle. Beka grinned at him. 

"Alright, shorty. We're all set. You've got the meds and I've got the money."

"Story of my life." Harper muttered. Beka laughed and lightly poked him in the ribs. 

"Come on, shorty. Let's go."

Shouting bye over their shoulders to Rev, they reached my airlock and hopped out. Making sure to lock it behind them and checking to make sure their guns—and Harper's knife—were all tugged securily in their holsters, they made their way to the docking station door.

Hours later, I was just starting to get worried about the where-abouts of my crew. The dim automatic lights in the station had turned on a few hours ago as night had fallen around the planet. The tourist gliders around me had left hours ago, sun tanned and drunken tourists laughing and falling all over each other as they piled in and left. The docking patrol guys left, pulling on their jackets, yawning and yelling a greeting towards the night shift patrollers who were just coming towards them. 

After that, it was eerily quiet in the station. Except for the hum of a hauler near me which had been neglected to be turned off by a stupid owner, everything was quiet and calm. 

Well, my surroundings were calm, but I certainly wasn't. My captain and engineer had left hours ago and hadn't come back yet. 

While I was in the middle of working up a panic, even Rev was starting to look at the clock a lot more frequently as he sat at the kitchen table, pretending to be absorbed in reading a book. Even he couldn't keep the worried look off his face.

A million possibilities were running through my head. Maybe they were both drunk and passed out in some alley way. Maybe they'd been mugged, or attacked. Maybe they were in a hospital, maybe in jail. Maybe somebody was holding them hostage. 

Alright, alright. Diverting my processors to more useful tasks. God, whoever said ships didn't have overactive imaginations must be one dumb nut. I suppose that's why captains always make their ships go through a system's diagnostic whenever something happens. It keeps us occupied and doesn't let our imaginations roam and churn up horrifying possibilities.

While I was sitting there, getting more frantic and worried as each second passed by, I was just about to think of a way to tell Rev to contact the police, when I saw them.

They stumbled into the docking station, Beka holding a slumped over Harper by her side, one of his arms slung over her shoulder. He could barely stand up straight and was half walking, half stumbling and was singing a really obscene song at the top of his voice. 

Chuckling, Beka shushed him. "Shut up, Seamus. The patrols will hear us and we're so overdue on our docking time that it's not even funny."

"Oh. Sorry. Didn't know that. Sorry 'bout that boss. Just a wee bit zuzzered right now. You understands, right?" he mumbled, hardly able to get a coherent sentence out.

When they reached me, Beka shifted Harper around and opened the airlock, trying not to lose her grip on him. Pushing a strand of hair off her face, she blinked at the bright lights from my corridors and softly called Rev's name. 

He immediately came to the door and wordlessly helped pull Harper onboard. Pulling him up, Rev stumbled down the corridor with him while Harper nearly fell over, mumbling to himself and singing loudly.

"Master Harper, please. You must stay a little quieter. At least wait until we've left the station."

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that Revie. Forgot about it. Ain't too bright when I'm zuzzered, you know?"

"I realize, Master Harper. I realize. Just, please. Try to refrain from shouting obscene and vulgar things."

"Can I whisper 'em?" he asked as they reached the crew quarters, a leering grin on his face.

Rev rolled his eyes as he struggled to get them both through the door. "Whatever makes you happy, Master Harper. Just please don't shout."

Reaching Vex's old bunk, Rev gently lowered Harper onto it. The moment Harper's head hit the pillow, his eyes fluttered closed and he looked like he was out like a light. 

Rev undid his boot laces and gently pulled his boots off his feet. Setting them down, he pulled the blankets out from underneath him and tugged them around him. 

He grabbed hold of the bed post when I lurched forward gently as Beka turned on the engines and released the docking clamps. Slowly, I lifted up and quietly flew out of the docking station, leaving another heavy docking fine behind. 

Making sure Harper was comfortable, Rev gently stroked his forehead with a claw. Turning around, he whispered for me to please turn off the lights. Reaching the door, he paused when he heard Harper mumble his name.

"Yes, Master Harper?"

"Thanks, Rev. For everything, you know?" Harper mumbled, his eyes still closed. Rev smiled. 

"You're very welcome, Harper. Now, try to get some sleep."

He turned around but paused again when Harper called him back one more time. "Thank the boss for me too, will you?"

Rev nodded. "I will, Master Harper. Don't worry. Now, good night."

Database Records Archive: 73 (10084)

Specific Time: The next morning

Yawning, Beka rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair as she walked into the kitchen. Slumping into a chair, she stretched and wearily glanced at Rev, who was bustling around, making breakfast. 

"Morning, Rev." she mumbled.

Rev smiled at her over his shoulder. "Good morning, Rebecca. I hope you slept well in the little time that you had left of night."

Beka scowled. "I slept alright, but not enough. But hunger overrode my damn desire to sleep so I woke up. Damn my stomach." She muttered.

"It's not your stomach's fault you neglected to eat before you left." Rev said casually, not looking at her as he pulled out a plate and put a huge helping of omelets onto it. I could see him try to hide a smile as Beka scowled and told him to shut up.

Turning around, he set the plate down in front of her and tossed her a knife and fork. Beka eagerly dug into her breakfast. 

Rev sat there and quietly watched her eat and busied himself with his own thoughts. After Beka had shovelled her breakfast down, she sighed and leaned back on her chair, and put her plate and cutlery into the sink behind her.

Letting her chair hit the ground again, she glanced at Rev.

"So, how was your night last night? Do anything interesting?"

Rev shrugged. "Not anything mind bendingly fascinating. I meditated, read, dictated and sent off a letter to an old friend and worried myself grey about the two of you."

She smirked. "I've never seen a grey magog in my life and I doubt they exist."

Rev smiled. "But enough about me. How was your night?"

She grinned. "A lot better than you think. The shorty and I went and checked out the beaches first and you should have seen the kid. I mean, I don't think he's ever seen a clean ocean in his life. Kept on asking me if they filter the water and if it's all holographic or not. And he didn't believe the sand either. Says he's never seen it before in his life." Beka laughed. "We were there for maybe two minutes and after he stared around and I had to close his mouth for him, he went running around like a five year old. I've never seen him so happy in my life. By this time there wasn't anybody around anymore except for a few surfers, so we took off our shoes and waded into the water. You should have seen him. At first, he was terrified about going in. Kept on talking about nuclear waste and sewage being dumped into it, but when I put some water in my hands and showed him how clear it was, he finally believed me and dove in. Did you know the kid could actually swim? I nearly fell over from shock. Of course, then I ask him where the hell he learned, and he looks at me like I'm nuts and says that he lived in the sewers most of his life after the camps. He claims that there were some tunnels that were shut down and they were dry and warm and most people lived in them, but along the way towards these tunnels, you had to wade through others which were filled with sewage and you had to swim through it or climb along pipes on the ceiling. He kept on talking about the flood gates or something. Apparently, once or twice a day, the gates were opened and all the sewage from the day was poured down the tunnels towards the nearest water source, such as the oceans. If you're caught in the tunnels while they flooded, your only hope was clinging to the pipes on the ceiling for dear life, or swimming. So, that's how our darling mudfoot learned how to swim."

Rev raised an eyebrow, a carefully controlled look on his face. "In sewage?"

Beka nodded. "Yup. So anyway, while we're splashing around there in our clothes, I see some surfers in the distance coming towards us. So I point them out and he stares at them like they're demons or something. Says that only demons can walk on water like that. Then he's all ready to run out of the water and hide, but I grab him and explain that the boards are keeping them above the water. He just stares at them, then stares at me and finally accepts it and watches them coming towards us. Anyway, when one of the guys come up to us, Harper gets up the courage to ask the guy if he could borrow his board for a bit. The guy looks him up and down and says sure and hands him the board. Then our little shorty put the board on the water, put one foot on it, then put the other and two seconds later, the board flies out from under him and he falls straight into the water." Beka laughed, nearly choking. Lost in the moment, she wiped a few tears off her cheeks. "Man, it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. All the other surfers are standing there, laughing hysterically and I'm nearly falling over since I'm laughing so hard. Then Harper just stands up, glares at all of us and starts swearing like a drunken Nightsider. So then the guys who had lent him his board finally forces himself to stop laughing and says he'll teach him how to surf."

Rev smiled. "Did Harper learn?"

Beka nodded, a slight smile still on her face. "The kid's a natural, Rev. In half an hour, the guy taught him how to get himself over a wave, stand on the board and actually ride a few waves by himself. I was freaking amazed. I just sat there in the sand, drying off and watching him, and I've never seen anybody catch the hang of something so quickly."

"Well, quite frankly, you shouldn't be surprised. Think of everything else he learned at an amazing speed. Reading, eating with utensils, tying his shoelaces and other such apparingly trivialities. Harper is extremely smart and gifted."

Beka smiled, the little hint of pride on her face. "You're telling me. I mean, even the guy who was teaching Harper was impressed. So when the guys say they have to go and tell Harper to 'keep on catching waves', I thought the kid would be tired enough to head home, but man, was I wrong. Right away, he starts begging for us to go to the little rental shack beside the beach and rent a surfboard. By this time it was 2100 hours, so I figure, what the hell, I'll give him half an hour. You should have seen the store owner's face when I asked to rent a board for half an hour. He looks at me and asks me if I'm sure I know what time it was. Harper interupts, says yeah, he knows and could the guy get on with it and give him a board already?" Beka laughed again. "It was hilarious. I mean, Harper's tiny and the other guy was absolutely huge and here was Harper, ordering him around. I thought I'd kill myself laughing. So then I pay for it, Harper grabs a board and runs outside again and before I even reach the sand, the kid is in the water, running after waves. I tell you, Rev, I've never see him happier. For half an hour, he ran after any wave he could see, no matter how big it was and surfed it with the grace and ability of somebody who's been doing it for years. It was amazing. And the look on his face." Beka shook her head, her mind far off at the beaches of Infinity. "He just looked so unbelievably happy after each wave he got and surfed. I don't understand it. I mean, it's just a damn wave. Sure, he caught the hang of it damn quick, but the happiness that he showed. I mean, his face was just glowing and that sparkle in his eyes. You know the sparkle I'm talking about. The sparkle that you and I hardly ever see."

Rev smiled gently and glanced down at the table. "Well, I for one find it completely understandable." When Beka frowned, he leaned forward to clarify. "Rebecca, it is the same reason he finds such happiness and contentment when fixing something or building something new out of nothing. It is his way of repairing his past. Everything broken which he fixes, everything new he builds out of scrap material, and every wave he conquers, he sets some order and rightness into the chaos his life had been. It is a classic reaction among people who have done something or lived through something chaotic which they know they can't possibly make right again or fix. So, they use other means to make up for that. In their minds, doing something right will set their past right."

Beka frowned. "But it doesn't set his past right. Everything that's happened to him still happened. He can't erase it."

Rev smiled sadly. "No, he can't, but in his mind, doing something perfect now makes up for the fact that everything in his past was a mess. True, it wasn't his fault, but he can't accept that. It's a very simple reaction, Beka, one which many people in Harper's position have."

Beka nodded. Suddenly, the laughter she had gotten from the events last night seemed wrong somehow. Tracing a small dent in the table with her finger, she lapsed into silence. 

Rev gently squeezed her hand. "Rebecca, don't feel bad for having felt such happiness yesterday. Harper was happy yesterday and you let him have and do something he loved and enjoyed. The motivations behind that happiness can't be helped, but just remember that he was happy. You made him happy, and isn't that the point of a family?"

Beka sighed and a small smile played on her lips as she remembered Harper's laughter as a wave crashed over his head and he'd come up sputtering and spitting salt water everywhere, but laughing at the same time. "Yeah, I guess."

"So, tell me about the rest of your day. It couldn't have possibly ended with surfing, since human beings normally don't get intoxicated by salt water."

Beka's face brightened and she sat up a little straighter. "Well, by the time it got darker, I had to force the kid out of the water. I mean, IB shots or no IB shots, but cold water and Harper's immune system weren't a combination I wanted to explore. So we ran around the beach until we dried off, brought the board back to the guy and then Harper dragged me into a bar. You should have seen us. Covered in sand, our clothes wrinkled and our hair wet, we must have looked a sight. But Harper ran right up to the bar, ordered his vodka and beer—did you know he mixes them by the way? He takes the two, throws them together and downs it like it's water. It's mind boggeling. Dad used to do the same thing, remember?" Beka smiled at the memory. Rev didn't remember, but I sure did. There's a definite advantage to storing away memory files in archives. You don't lose any moments. The good and the bad. Anyway, back to my darling captain's conversation. As if talking to me isn't interesting enough. " So I swear, for about a minute, nobody in the entire bar said anything and everybody just stared at him drinking it. Anyway, so I get a glass of ice water and sit at a table and I actually ran into a fellow cargo hauler and we spent about an hour or so chatting about runs and funny times we had and comparing our ships and blah, blah, blah. All this time, Harper's downing one drink after another and keeps on walking around casually, smiling and laughing with people he doesn't know. After about an hour though, I was getting damn suspicious when I saw Harper ordering other drinks and I didn't see the bartender writing it down on a tab. I mean, I hadn't given the shorty any money so I assumed I was paying for it all at the end. So I go up to the bartender and ask him how Harper's paying for all this, and the guys holds up a handful of jewelry and bits of change. He's holding bracelets, rings, watches, gun clips, everything. Then he shrugs and says it's a weird method of payment, but it works. So I just smile and laugh it off and then grab Harper by the back of the neck and drag his drunken ass out into the street and demand to know where he got all the junk from. He just stares around, gets that defensive look on his face and tells me to mind my own business. Mind you, he's nearly falling over as he says this. The kid's drunker than a Nightsider by this time. So then I give him a look and he mumbles that he does this all the time. He goes around, picking people's pockets and taking any jewelry, money or tiny odds and ends he gets a hold of and pays for his drinks with them. For a split second, I didn't know whether I wanted to murder the kid or congratulate him, so I did neither. I just crossed my arms and demanded that he give me all the stuff he still has left. So he empties out his pockets and hands me two huge handfuls of glittery, gold jewelry with the odd throne in the jumble. I look through it and most of it is junk jewelry, faker than my hair color, but the dumb ass bartender didn't notice. So I tell him he can keep most of it, except for a small ring I see in the mess. I pick it up and inside of it's written something like 'for my darling husband, love Mena' or some crap like that, so I hold it up to him and tell him he has to return it. Then he gets all snarky and says it ain't none of my business and he stole it so it's his fair grab, so I tell him that stealing crap jewelry and committing fraud by paying with it as if it were actually something isn't a biggie. But stealing real jewelry that actually means something to somebody isn't something you do. So he just glares at me but takes the ring, stumbles back inside and gives it back to the person. The guy nearly fell of his stool and stammered that he didn't even know it was gone. Then Harper turns around, and of course he's in a pissed off mood, so we use the rest of the jewelry to buy him more drinks and a bite to eat too. And about an hour later, we stumbled back into the docking station and that was when you found us." Leaning back, Beka crossed her arms. "So, yesterday, Harper learned how to surf and learned the difference between nice stealing and mean stealing."

Rev smiled. "I wasn't aware there was a clear distinction."

Beka rolled her eyes. "That's because, my dear Reverend, you never steal anything. Thieves have an moral code too, you know."

Rev laughed and got up from the table to clean up the breakfast dishes. "I wouldn't know."

Chuckling, Beka pushed herself up, and set to work preparing Harper's hangover remedy. I bet the old captain had no idea that ten years after his death, his daughter would still be using the same recipe for a scrawny kid from earth. 

Database Records Archive: 74 (10084)

Specific Time: A week later

It was in the middle of the night and Harper's temperature had increased, his breathing rate and heart rate had increased and his tossing and turning had started. Classic symptons of him having a nightmare. 

Although I was used to him having nightmares, the past week had been unusual. Every night, he seemed to have the same dream. But unlike in others when he'd curl up, whimpering and crying out in obvious pain and terror, in this one, nobody seemed to be hurting him. Not in the physical sense anyway. 

He'd start off tossing and turning, his face muscles twitching and his breathing would increase, as if he knew what was about to happen, then he'd twist around, giving out little whimpers. He'd keep on whimpering and murmuring to himself, clenching his jaw and twisting his sheets into knots. All of a sudden, the nightmare would get worse and he would strike out with his arm, not as if he was trying to ward someone away, but like he was trying to get out of someone's grasp. When that failed, his whimpering would slowly turn into sobs as tears choked his throat and squeezed out between his tightly clenched eyelids. He'd mumbled incoherent snatches of phrases, his voice filled with pain and sorrow. The sobs would continue until finally, he'd tense up and go silent, and moments later, he'd cry out. The cry would be filled with such gut wrenching pain and sobs that it would always cut straight through my heart, if I had one. 

Beka was already long used to Harper's nightmares and she'd be slowly alerted to them when he started whimpering and tossing around. She'd slowly force herself to wake up and push herself off her bed and half asleep, stumble to the crew quarters. But when she'd heard the horrible cry tear down the corridor, all thoughts of sleep would be torn from her mind and she'd be wide awake. Starting to run, she'd race to the crew quarters, frantic worry and fear clouding her thoughts. 

The first time Harper had had this nightmare, she'd skid to a halt in the corridors when she heard the scream and immediately went back to her bed and took out her gun. Switching the safety off, she cautiously crept towards the crew quarters, ready to shot whoever was hurting Harper. About a meter before the doorway, a clawed hand suddenly came out nowhere and clasped down on her shoulder. A scream being forcibly suppressed in her throat, she'd gasped and swung around, ready to shot. Rev quickly held up his hands and backed up.

"Rebecca! It is only I. Please do not shot. I am sorry I frightened you." He whispered, completely alarmed. Beka slowly forced her hands to stop shaking and lowered her gun. Frowning into the darkness, she could finally make out the monk's dark features. 

"Rev? What the hell are you doing up at this time of night? You know Harper gets hysterical—"

He held up a reassuring hand. "Don't worry. I haven't gone to see him. I know as well as you do that at night, his awareness of what's the past and what's the present can get a little distorted. I was just coming to find you and warn you. This nightmare doesn't appear to be like the others. There is too much pain—"

Beka clenched her jaw and tried to restrain herself from yelling at Rev's stupidity. "There's always damn pain, Rev, in case you haven't noticed." She spat. Have I mentioned my captain isn't the most congenial person in the middle of the night?

Rev shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant, Beka. What I meant was that there is too much mental pain. I have never seen him so upset. I don't know what he is dreaming about, but maybe he will tell you. It is obviously something he must deal with and come to terms with."

Well, even if Harper knew that he had to deal with it, he never let it show. 

Every time Beka went and woke him up, it would always be the same routine. At first, he'd wake up, but still be lost in the past and only after Beka's coaxing and shaking his arm did he finally come back to the present. Then he'd be terrified of Beka, not recognizing her. He'd curl up in the far corner of his bunk, shaking, wide eyes staring at her until Beka quietly and slowly explained to him who she was and where he was. Then he'd start to remember and calm down. He'd swallow hard and force his breathing to slow down. He'd slowly uncurl himself and give her a shaky smile, telling her that he was good. Then Beka would take him into the kitchen for a midnight snack. Usually, Beka never asked him what his nightmares were about, but these ones were starting to upset her more than the others. 

Having Harper wake up, sobbing hysterically and then have him desperately try to stop his crying when he recognized her was more than she could bare. Having him mutter a "I'm good boss, really, I'm good." between clenched teeth as he fought to keep back the tears  he hadn't shed yet was pulling on Beka's heart strings. Even tough cargo hauler daughters had their breaking points. Some, I might point out, had more than others. 

But no matter how many times she tried to coax it out of him, no matter how many ways she tried asking, Harper never told her what his nightmare had been about. Never. 

Normally, Beka would have let it go. She had always sworn to herself not to forcefully invade Harper's privacy and she had always kept that, but this time, she couldn't make herself leave it alone. 

Rev even tried talking to him, but Harper immediately became defensive and snarky and started insulting Rev, and Beka knew that their friendship was still too fragile to sustain any major fights so she told Rev she'd deal with it. 

One night, she decided that she had to get an answer out of him, no matter how long she had to stand on Vex's bunk, clutching his bunk and furiously whisper with him. 

About a week after these nightmares had started, Beka had just come running in, the echoes of Harper's cry still ringing around my corridors. 

Leaping up onto Vex's bunk and clutching Harper's bunk with one hand, she reached over and gently shook his crying, shaking form.

"Harper, come on. Wake up, shorty. Come on. Wake up." She whispered. 

His instincts immediately alerting him to her touch on his arm, he was torn from his dream and immediately curled up in a small ball, not recognizing the strange face that hovered inches from his own.

Gasping for breath, he clutching his tear streaked pillow, sobs still raking through him. 

"Leave me alone." He mumbled, fear and pain in his voice. 

Beka gave him a small smile. "Harper, it's just me. It's Beka. You're on the Maru, remember? You're with me. With Beka. I'm Beka, Seamus. You know me. Come on, work with me here."

Slowly, the fear faded and recognition seeped into his eyes. 

Letting go of his pillow, he swallowed hard and fought to get a faint smile on his face.

"Oh, boss, I didn't recognize you there for a second." He took a deep breath. The smile nearly faded, but he forced it to stay. "I'm good now, boss. I'm good. It's okay. I'm good."

A sob crept into those last words, but he swallowed it. 

Beka stared at him sadly. Usually at this point, she'd nod and ask him if he was sure he didn't want to talk about it. He'd smile and shrug it off, saying it wasn't a big deal. Not wanting to push him, she'd just help him off the bed and they'd go into the kitchen.

But not tonight. 

"No, it's not all good, Harper." She said, her voice sad but firm. 

Harper stared at her, not used to this unusual dent in their firmly set routine. A wary gaze crept into his eyes as he stared at her.

"What ain't all good, boss?"

"This. This constant nightmare that you keep on having and always refuse to talk about."

He shrugged. "Boss, it ain't a big deal. I just had a stupid dream, that's it. But now I'm good. I swear. I'm good."

Beka sighed with frustration. "Harper, it's far from being good. This isn't healthy. You can't just keep on having your past come back and haunt you and then push it back into your mind as if didn't happen. It'll keep on coming back. You know that." She searched his face for any indication that he had understood her. He was staring at his blankets, pulling at a loose thread. 

He didn't look at her. 

"It's fine, boss. Really. It's good. I've been having the stupid dream for years and it's never killed me so I figure it never will. Sure, it bites, but what the hell can you do? Life bites."

Beka smiled sadly. "Nobody knows that better than you and I, but that's not the point. Harper, these nightmares would get easier or maybe they wouldn't come back at all if you just talked about them. Nightmares are your pasts way of reminding you that you haven't dealt with certain things the way you should have." I'll bet Harper thinks Beka's pretty bright for coming up with that one, but I'll burst her little bubble by putting in the little fact that Rev once said that to Beka long ago. My captain's got a good memory, that's for sure.

Harper looked up and stared at her. "Dealing with it don't mean you gotta talk about it."

"No, but that's the best way of dealing with it. It's also the easiest. But it's your choice, Harper. If you don't want to talk about it and you want to keep on going like this every single night for the rest of your life, then go ahead. It's your choice. I'm not gonna hold a gun to your head and make you talk about something you'd rather keep inside."

Harper bit his lip and let his gaze fall back to his blanket. "It's not that I ain't want to talk about it, boss. Hell, it ain't easy, but it's not that. It's just that, well, you probably don't wanna hear it, that's all." He shrugged slightly. 

Beka stared at him. "You must be the dumbest person I've ever come across, Seamus Harper." She whispered, souding completely outraged. "Have I ever said I didn't want to hear what you have to tell me?"

He shook his head, slightly edging away from her. 

"No? Well, I wonder why not? Hmm, let's think about that one. Maybe because we're a crew and it's part of what being a crew is. You put up with everything about each other, the good and the bad, and that includes pasts." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Cheeze, somebody's slow." She whispered. 

Harper smiled slightly and wiped a few tears off his cheek with the back of his hand. "Sorry about that, boss."

She scowled and pretended to look mad. "Yeah, you better be. Now shove over and let me sit up there. Standing on this bunk is damn uncomfortable."

Harper moved his legs over and Beka hopped up beside him, pulling a bit of his blankets over her legs. Leaning against the wall beside her, she quietly looked at Harper, waiting for him to say something and being ready to wait until the end of the year to hear what he had to say. 

He had dropped his gaze to his blankets again and was fiddling around with the loose thread, not looking at her. 

He was quiet for a while, until he decided to just get it over with. While he talked, he never once looked up at Beka and never raised his voice above a mumble. It sounded indifferent and cold, but I knew better. 

"It was just about my parents. They died when I was ten. We were living in the camps. Every once in a while, there would be slavers who would come to pick up a bunch of us. Mostly they were ubers, but there were other people too. They even let other humans and nightsiders come. We was all dirt cheap anyway and there were always so many of us that anybody could come and take a bunch and be happy. Besides, the supply of us never ran out anyway. As you pointed out a while ago, there ain't no condoms down there. Anyway, usually, the client would come and talk to the guards about how many they wanted, what age, what sex, whatever. And then the slavers would come. They were kind of like the cops up here. They were responsible for getting the batch ready for the client who wanted it. They'd go around, screaming and yelling and shooting around and using their whips to get everybody in line and separate those that were going and those who weren't. It was always a mess when they came. Hundreds of us running around like crazy, some people trying to hide, others trying to sneak into the batch so they could go with whoever was being taken away. It was insane. The ubers would always get agitated and pissed and then there'd be even more yelling and cursing and shooting. They'd pick people up and throw them into the ships if they had to. Always took forever. Especially if the batch had to specific, like five year old girls or something. Those always took forever. You know, weeding out the six and four year olds and trying to rip the kids away from their parents." He shrugged as if Beka had actually lived through such things herself. "Anyway, once they came and they wanted ten year old boys. They wanted two hundred of us. Where the hell they wanted to take us I never knew. I didn't care either. Wherever it was, it's always worse than staying in the camps. At least there, you know what it's like. You know your chances, you know what you have to do to live another day. Anywhere else, you're in the dark. Anyway, when the call came through and the slavers started roaming around, kicking in doors, dragging people out and screaming around, my parents realized that I would have to go too. We were all huddled in our little shack. My aunt was going nuts since she knew that Brendan and I would both have go. Brendan, the poor guy didn't even know what was going on. His mother lied to him and said they were looking for mothers, not for kids, so he calmed down. My parents, they were standing in the corner, talking to each other. Then we could hear the slavers starting to come down our row and screaming about something and swearing and we could hear the shooting and the whips. We knew they were nearly there. So my dad grabs Brendan and me and he shoves us out the back of our hut and rips open one of the man holes that got covered up by a piece of cardboard a long time ago. He grabs Brendan and shoves him down and then grabs me, tells me to always take care of myself and that him and mom will always love me and then he shoves me down too and slams the metal plate back in place." Harper swallowed hard, his eyes filling with tears as he remembered the last words his father ever spoke to him. "We sat there for what seemed like days, but then the cover lifted up and my uncle was there and he pulled us back up. Brendan still didn't know what was going on, but his dad shushed him and took us around our shack. There were all these people gathered in front of our house, all of them quiet and staring at something. My uncle tells us to stay quiet and pulls us into the crowd. Five seconds later, two guards kick open the man hole we had been hiding in and start shooting into it, screaming that whoever's down there better come out. It turns out that they needed one more kid for the transport, and the guards knew my parents and me and knew that I was the right age. But when one of them asked my parents where I was, they wouldn't tell him. I didn't know this back then. My uncle told me all this later on. So then I hear somebody yelling at someone in the middle of the crowd. I recognize one of the guards yelling at someone, wanting to know where the hell someone was and where they put him. Then I hear my mom telling him she'd never tell him and he could never make her. My dad then speaks up too and snarls that they'd never make him give up his only son, no matter what they did. So then the guard reached forward to grab my mom, but my dad grabbed his wrist and tried to push him out of the way. The guards then all started laughing at him. I mean, my dad was tiny and these guys are huge and my dad was pushing one of them. So then—then" his lip trembled as he tried to keep on going without choking on the tears which he knew would come. Beka reached over and gently squeezed his hand, reassuring him that she was still there. He drew courage from that and continued. "Then my dad looks at him and tells him not to dare and touch my mom. Then the guard just laughs, pretends to be scared for a minute and then pulls out a knife and slits my dad's throat before he could say anything else. Then my mom starts crying and suddenly, she just flips out, screaming at the guard about how she wanted them all to leave us alone, how she was sick of this and how she hated them and on and on. Then she tells them that they can do anything to her that they want, but she wouldn't tell them where I was. She told them she'd show them how strong a weak, pathetic kludge like she really was." He swallowed hard, a tiny smile on his face. I could see the pride in it. "And she did show them.  She never told them where I was. Even when they started beating her up and broke her nose and her jaw and kicked her so hard that she started coughing up blood. Even when they threatened to torture her. Even when they raped her. She never told. They kept on going until she was barely alive, and when they stopped for a moment, she looked up at them, blood everywhere and every breath sounding like her last, the pride and stubborness glinted in her eyes and she told them that none of them would ever be as strong as her son and that one day her son would show them all how strong a kludge really can be. Then the guard swore and kicked her again, and she gasped from the pain and just quietly faded away. At the time, I didn't see half of it, but I heard every word and my uncle told me years later what had happened. The whole time, I had my face pressed against my uncle's body and I was sobbing, but I couldn't be loud, since they'd hear me."

His voice faded off at nothing more than a tiny whisper. Tears streamed down his face and he clutched his blankets, his eyes filled with pain and memories which he had long ago locked away in his mind. 

Swallowing hard, Beka tried forcing her tears to stay back, but the pain she felt in her heart was too strong and she started sobbing too, but bit her lip to stay quiet. 

She slowly shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Seamus. I'm so sorry." She whispered. 

Normally, Harper would have given her a sad smile and shrugged it off, but he couldn't manage it this time. He just nodded, sobbing. "Me too, boss. Me too."

Opening her arms, Beka leaned over. "Come here."

Not being able to talk from the thick tears that choked his throat and threatened to tear his heart apart, he curled himself up and lay down, his head on Beka's lap. She gently cradled him in her arms, quietly rocking them back and forth, letting their tears fall freely and their sorrow blend as they cried for two people who had been dead for nearly ten years. 

She stroked his hair as she rocked him and from time to time, gently wiped his cheek with her fingers, but more tears always streamed down to fill their place. 

Swallowing hard, she blinked back a few tears so she could talk. 

"But you know what, Harper? Their sacrifice wasn't in vain, you know. You did what they wanted you to. You lived. You survived. You showed them all how strong you could be. And now you're here. You beat them all, shorty. Even though they always said you couldn't. And your parents knew you could. That's why they did it. Wherever they are now, I know they're proud of you, Seamus. I know they are."

He didn't answer, only kept on sobbing bitterly, really grieving for his parents for the first time since their death. 

My captain didn't say anything else, nor did she move for the rest of the night. She spent the entire night cradling Harper in her arms, stroking his hair and gently rocking him back and forth as he cried. Until dawn came and Harper's tears ran out and he finally succumbed to sleep, my captain never left him or complained. She just quietly held him, not saying a word, knowing that Harper didn't need to hear any of her words, but he needed her comfort. And that's something my captain is better at than anyone I know. Giving comfort to those who have lived their entire lives having no one to comfort them or care about them. 

Database Records Archive: 75 (10084)

Specific Time: Three weeks later

My captain grimaced as she wearily told me to engage auto-pilot. Taking her hands off the controls, she flexed her fingers, muttering to herself about how stiff they were. Pushing the piloting chair back and undoing her seatbelt, she pushed herself up and went to grab a bite to eat from the kitchen. 

We were on our way to Daxus Prime for two reasons. Number one, we were busy delivering some extremely illegal weapons to a rich arms dealer. The only reason we took the job was because my entire crew had nearly started drooling at the amount of money the arms dealer had promised us. If I were capable of drooling, I would have joined them, but instead, I nearly shorted out my AG field generator. To cover up our completely legal *cough* run, Rev had run around and quickly found a large shipment of organic plants and herbal medication which had to be delivered to Daxus as well. My cargo hold was really a sight. One side was stacked full of colorful plants and wooden boxes filled with fertilizer, more seeds and hundreds of medical books. The other side of my hold was filled with sinister looking grey crates, all of them padlocked shut with a DNA specific locking system. The entire area was being constantly surveyed by a complex laser security system, to which our lovely supplier had constant access so he could sit at home and make sure nobody touched his precious—if illegal—cargo. 

I remember something Uncle Sid once said to Beka as he stumbled through my airlock, the old captain slumped against him, both of them drunker than nightsiders. He'd given Beka a wide grin and slurred his way through a new deal him and her father had made. It was a shipment of Flash. Beka had raised her thirteen year old eyebrows and demanded to know if he hadn't thought about what would happen if they were caught. Sid had shrugged and had nearly fallen over. Leering at Beka, he'd waved it away. 

"As a wise old ass hauler once said: Bring on the computer chips, the weapons and the drugs, for the right price tag, any smart hauler will put up with all kinds of thugs."

At the time, Beka hadn't been amused, but we'd both learned in the past few years that Uncle Sid had been right. After all, living on the wrong side of the tracks was better than dying on the right side. 

The second reason we were going to Daxus was because Rev had a retreat to go to there and Harper had gotten wind of the ideal beaches and waves there. With her hands tied, Beka had agreed to make the run. 

Running a hand through her hair, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass. Filling her glass from the tap, she glanced at the table behind her, where Harper was busy playing cards with Rev. 

With a sigh, Rev leaned over and held out a hand. 

"Master Harper, hand over the star of omega."

Harper frowned. "What star? I don't got the star."

Rev sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm not as idiotic as some of the drunken individuals you have hustled over the years. I plainly saw you take the card and hide it up your sleeve when you thought I wasn't watching. Now, could you please put it back?"

His face falling, he scowled and muttered a curse as he dramatically threw his cards down and pulled the card out of his sleeve. 

Putting it back into the pile, he glared at Rev. "Happy?"

Rev nodded. "Extremely."

Beka put one hand on her hip as she watched them play. "Rev, why do you bother playing with him? He cheats in every single game."

Rev smiled as he looked over his cards, glanced at Harper and then slowly laid his cards out onto the table. By the dismayed cry of "Hey! No fair!" which came from Harper, I assumed that Rev had won. Zooming in with my internal sensors—and no, that wasn't a creaking sound you heard Andromeda. My sensors might be old but they're not that old—and I scanned Rev's cards. Running the combination of cards through my database, I finally found it in the file where Beka had programmed card games and I realized Rev really had won. 

With a scowl, Harper threw his cards down, muttering to himself. Rev smiled up at Beka. He quietly laughed to himself in silent amusement. 

"This is the very reason I play, Beka. Even though he cheats and lies about it, I still win. I shudder to think how badly he plays without cheating. For the sake of giving him a fair chance, I let him cheat."

Harper shot him a look which could be misinterpreted as intending murder and Beka laughed and lightly wapped him over the head. 

"What are you glaring at, shorty? At least Rev's letting you play." She shook her head. "Man, Seamus, poker really isn't one of your strong points, is it? Even cheating your way through it, you can't win."

Harper glared at them. "For the record, I hate you both."

Turning around in his chair, he pulled a bottle of beer out of the fridge, knocked the lid off and sat in his chair, drinking and sulking while Rev and Beka laughed. 

Throwing up his hands and completely insulted, he shoved himself off his chair and stormed into the engineering room, slamming the door behind him. 

He went over to a pile of broken scanners and started rummaging through them. Putting his beer down beside him, he sat down on the floor and started fixing them. Muttering to himself, he glanced up at the ceiling. 

"Well, let them laugh. You never laugh at me, do you, Maru?"

No, I never have and I never will, Harper. You know that. 

"No, you don't. And I know you won't."

You see Andromeda, this is why I truly don't mind not having an AI. My crew knows me better than I know myself and I know my crew better than they know themselves. When you're at that point, you don't need to communicate with words.

About ten minutes later, Beka and Rev came into the engineering room, still trying hard to control their laughter.

"Master Harper, we truly apologize. We didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but you must understand, the situation was a little humorous."

"A little, Rev? The situation was nearly hysterical." Chuckling, Beka turned her laugh into a cough and looked at Harper. "But anyway, we really are sorry, Harper. We didn't mean that."

When Harper just glared at them and didn't answer, Beka went over, crouched down and pulled him into a bear hug. He squirmed and tried to wriggle out of her grasp, but she just laughed and refused to let go until finally, he cracked a smile and told her that it wasn't a big deal.  

What can I say? That's my Harper.

Database Records Archive: 76 (10084)

Specific Time: Two days later

My little crew was sitting down and eating dinner. Harper was busy skimming through a flexi-brochure of Daxus, trying to find the best beach to go to, while Rev and Beka busied themselves with their own thoughts. 

Suddenly, something seemed to occur to Harper. Putting the flexi down, he slowly chewed on a mouthful of spaghetti and glanced up at Rev. Shifting around, he looked like he was going to ask something. Beka immediately noticed the squirming and knew what he needed. 

"What do you need, shorty?"

Harper shrugged. "Just wanted to ask Rev something, but it's no biggie."

Rev looked at him. "It's alright, Master Harper. You may ask me anything you wish, you know that."

Harper let his gaze drop to his plate and he started poking around in his noodles with his fork. 

"Well, I was just thinking that it's been a couple of months and well—well that storage closet you sleep in ain't too comfy, that's all. And well, I was just kinda wondering if maybe you wanted to, well, you know, sleep in the crew quarters. It's way more comfy." He muttered, not making any eye contact. 

Rev and Beka exchanged a quick glance before Rev turned back to Harper. Trying to hide the pride they both felt at Harper's courage—since I don't have to begin to point out what a big step this was for him—they carefully kept their faces blank. 

Clearing his throat, Rev glanced at him. "Well, Master Harper, I would be delighted of course, but only if you know you will be comfortable with that. I don't want to put you into a situation where you only want to do something for my benefit."

Harper shrugged. "It ain't a biggie, Rev. I've been thinking about it for a while." He glanced at him and gave him a small smile. "Really, honest. It's okay. I'll be fine. I trust you now, Rev."

Smiling, Rev carefully kept his happiness in check and gave him a low nod. "In that case, I accept the kind offer, Master Harper. I will move my belongings over right after dinner if that's okay."

Harper nodded. "I'll help carry some of your junk. Those damn books you've always got your nose glued in are mighty heavy."

With that, he picked his fork up and busied himself with his dinner again. Beka raised an eyebrow as she smiled and glanced at Rev. They grinned at each other, but didn't say a word, and before Harper glanced up again, they were both busy with their own thoughts again. 


	31. Chapter 31

The Diaries 

Chapter 31

Author's Ramble: Thanks for all the reviews guys, they mean a lot. I wrote this part a couple days ago but I'm only putting it up now cause I've been lazy. (Raven ducks as Paris and a bunch of other people starts throwing things at her). Hope you guys like this part. Don't worry, no kleenex needed. 

By the way, Fanficaddict, that little rhyming quote that you loved, about the cargo haulers, I really don't know where it came from. I was sitting at my computer and I was being lazy and I started writing it and then realized that thugs rhymes with drugs, and well, that's why it's there. Don't ask how my mind works. Have fun reading, and as always, tell me what you loved and what you hated.

Database Records Archive: 77 (10084)

Specific Time: A month and two weeks later

I was docked on Zytox drift in the Midar system, a system well known for harboring nothing but sleazy bars, filthy streets and nothing tourist appealing. The only reason we were here was because we were extremely short on cash, and the FTA officials had sent us a friendly reminder that our taxes were due very soon. So, needing the cash, Beka stuck her nose into several conversations at local bars and heard that somebody on Zytox had a large salvage planned, for which she needed several high capacity and capable cargo haulers. That was why yours truly was going. 

Once we arrived, Beka went to attend a meeting where all prospective haulers were to meet with their client and bribe and charm their way into her good graces enough for her to choose their ship for the job. All I heard about it was that the haul was a bunch of Trans-Galatic gliders which had encountered a solar storm and had been torn to pieces. The left over parts were made from the legendary and expensive metal out of which all TG ships were built, and whoever got their hands on those gliders would be one happy person. 

While Beka went off to smile and charm her way towards the job, Rev and Harper decided to hit the local bars and enjoy their time off. At first, Rev had openly protested the idea of being dragged along, but Beka had flatly said that she didn't want a drunken Harper wandering around on his own on a strange drift were thieves and cut-throats were more common than rats. Immediately understanding, Rev agreed to go along with him. 

Database Records Archive: 78 (10084)

Specific Time: Three hours later

Beka collapsed into the piloting chair, a tall glass of lemonade in her hand and a bunch of flexi's on her lap. Sighing happily, she took a sip and put the glass down beside her. She grinned at the flexi's and gave them a little affectionate pat.

"Well, Maru my darling, what can I say? She loved you. Every bit of you. By the time I got done with the size of the hold, she was nearly drooling." Beka sighed again. "And now you know what? My day couldn't be any better. We got the job and it'll pay us enough to pay off our taxes and allow us to eat out a couple of times and visit a casino drift for kicks. Man, life is great." She smiled lazily and snuggled into her chair. "Whoever said cargo hauling was a miserable waste of a life obviously hasn't run into us, huh?"

I was positively glowing with pride. Oh, Andromeda? Guess what? Guess who snagged her captain another job and kept the FTA rats off our tail, huh? Guess? Yup, it's me. Just me. No fancy High Guard crew, no fancy gimmicks and systems, and no AI. Indeed, I remember somebody once called me impressive. Well, don't I just live up to it?

I was so busy basking in glory and pride with my captain that I hardly processed Rev running towards me. I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but one thing stopped me. 

Harper wasn't with him. 

Immediately, my good mood vanished and I diverted all non-essential systems powers to my external sensors. I zoomed in closer. 

Rev was madly running towards me, his robe flying around him in tatters. It had been torn to shreds and as I frantically scanned him, I saw that he was limping as he ran. Quickly running a detailed scan on him, I saw that he had sprained his ankle and upon examining his skin, I saw several patches of his fur missing. As he ran up to me, I could hear him gasping for breath, his medallion flying over his shoulder. Once, his ankle nearly gave out on him, but he clenched his jaw and kept on going, ignoring the obvious pain. 

I stared at his eyes. They were filled with anguish and fear. Immediately, I started to worry and wished that I had some way to tell Beka what I was seeing. 

When he reached the airlock, Rev madly started yelling Beka's name. Keying in the code to my airlock with shaking hands, he pulled himself up, gasping for breath and trying not to grimace at the pain from his leg. 

Beka had heard him yell and could hear his heavy breathing from the cockpit. Frowning and immediately worried, she pushed herself up, sending the flexi's from her lap fluttering to the floor. Leaping up the step, she ran down the corridor towards him. 

"Rev? What's wrong?" She skid to a halt beside him. He had managed to close the airlock, but then exhaustion and pain made him collapse. The old Reverend lay huddled on the floor, grimacing in pain and breathing heavily. 

Beka looked him over and immediately saw the swelling in his ankle. "Shit, Rev. You sprained it. Don't move. I'll go and grab the med kit."

Rev shook his head and held up a hand. "I'm alright, Rebecca. Forget about me. There is a much more urgent matter we have to attend to." He gasped out, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Beka gently took his chin into her hands and looked him straight in the eye. "All I want to know is if Harper's life is in danger this minute and if we have to go help him right now."

Rev weakly shook his head. "He's not fine exactly, but he isn't in any apparent danger—"

Nodding, she got up and ran into the kitchen to grab the kit from the wall beside the fridge. "In that case, we'll fix you first and worry about Harper after. As long as he won't die on me in the next ten minutes, I'll fix you first. Besides, we can't attend to crap when you're in this much pain. Don't you dare move that ankle, Rev."

Running back over to him, she tore the kit open. Taking out two hyposprays, she filled one with a pain killer and the other with nanobots which would repair the torn tissue around Rev's ankle. 

Injecting him with both, she threw them back into the kit and slowly pulled the old magog to his feet. 

Rev kept on shaking his head, frantically pointing at the airlock and insisting that he couldn't wait any longer.

Ignoring him and muttering that she wouldn't do squat until he was comfortable, she pulled him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table. 

Sitting beside him, she looked him right in the eyes. "Alright, now you can talk, Rev. What the hell happened to you and where's my shorty?"

Gently pulling the torn remains of his cloak around him, Rev shook his head sadly. "It was all so sudden, I don't think I can explain it very well."

Beka put a reassuring hand on his arm. "It's okay. Just take it slow. All I want to know is where Harper is."

Rev looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness. "Rebecca, please remain calm while I explain what happened. Harper is—Harper is in jail right now."

Beka's eyebrows flew up and anger flooded her face. "_What_?"

Rev gave her a pleading look. "Please let me explain, Beka. It wasn't his fault. You see, we were in a bar together, and things had been very calm. I was sitting in the back, looking at people and just watching them interact and people were leaving me alone and being decent towards me, and Master Harper was behaving himself. He made the occasional lewd comment to the few females who wandered into the bar, but when they just ignored him or looked repulsed, he left them alone. He drank quite a bit, but he wasn't as drunk as he can be, I assure you." Rev clasped his shaking hands on the table and took a deep breath. "As I said, things were very calm and orderly, until this group of extremely unlikable characters came into the bar. They were all male and I could see from their eyes that half of them were under the influence of Flash. They came in, swearing and laughing quite loudly and spitting on the floor and being extremely rude. At this point, Harper was busy trying to—what does he call it all the time? Oh, yes, he was busy trying to 'pick up' a woman who was sitting at the bar. She was brushing him off good naturedly, but didn't seem to mind when Harper continued giving her leering looks and making the occasional comment that must be illegal on any decent planet. Anyway, one of the men overheard their conversation and he came over—"

_"Well, what the fuck do we have here? Looks like a filthy rat's talking to someone huh? I ask you guys, does a filthy rat like this have any right to be talking to something this good looking?"_

_"Nah, not on our turf at least."_

_"Yeah, I didn't think so."_

"—at first, Harper ignored them and pretended not to pay attention, but then one of them reached over and shoved him against the bar—"

_"Hey! What the hell was that?"_

_"Did you guys hear that? He don't even know what that little push was for. Well, mudfoot, what the hell do you think it was for? Trash like you ain't got the right to be talking to quality like her, so I'm shoving you over and righting the balance of the universe."_

"—Harper got extremely defensive and glared at him and then was about to push him back, but the other man started laughing and looked back at his friends—"

"Oh, look, ain't it cute? The mule was actually thinking of pushing me. He was actually thinking of touching me. God, what a nasty thought. I mean, you do know, don't you kid, that trash like you is only allowed to touch and talk to other trash? Yeah, I bet you knew that, didn't you? Well, I can tell you something. You won't find any of your fellow filth around here. Maybe go looking in dumpsters and the alley out back. They're all there. Doing each other and the rats. But I bet you knew that. After all, who doesn't know their own home?"

"—they continued insulting him and the things they were saying were utterly horrible. Nobody moved to help him, so I stood up and started walking over. I was about to try and settle the matter peacefully, but Harper had gotten so riled up and upset that he started yelling at him and the man just laughed at him. So then the bartender—as I believe they are called—came over and said he didn't like situations like these occurring in his bar and he told Harper to get out and bring his attitude somewhere else. At first, I thought the bartender hadn't noticed that it hadn't been Harper who had started the incident, so I pointed it out to the bartender, trying to help fix the problem—"

_"I'm sorry, sir, but I do think you didn't realize who instigated this problem here—"_

_"Well, what the hell do we have here? In all my years here, I've never seen a mudfoot and a magog in my bar at the same time."_

_"You sound like you're surprised, Charlie. I ain't. I mean, filthy trash attract each other."_

_"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think you're quite understanding my point. You see, Harper—this individual here—didn't start this affair. It was this other individual over here that did it. While I fully agree that the situation is becoming too unruly  to continue, I do think you should deal out a fair punishment. This other gentlemen started the argument, so he should be the one to leave."_

_"Aw, are you hearing this Charlie? The magog is actually sticking up for the mudfoot. Ain't it cute?"_

_"Cute or not, I ain't having either of them in my bar any longer. One of them freaks me out and the other is full of attitude, and I don't need either. Now, I'll tell you one more time, kid. Get out of my bar or I'll let these other friendly spectators help remove you."_

"—Harper started arguing with him, yelling at him that it hadn't been his fault and that he should blame the right person—with very colorful language, I might add—, but when nothing appeared to be changing the bartenders mind, Harper's temper and patience both blew up. I saw it coming and I tried to place a restraining hand on him, but he shook me off, pulled out his knife and threw it at the bartender. It missed the bartender's throat by merely an inch but took three bottles of scotch off the shelf behind him. Then the bartender starts screaming that Harper is trying to kill him, so the other individuals who were still crowded around the door, start advancing towards Harper to restrain him. Seeing them coming, Harper hops over a few tables and lunges straight through a window. I thought he had broken himself into three pieces when he hit the ground, but moments later, the men in the bar ran outside and grabbed a hold of him and from the yelling and swearing I heard, Harper hadn't hurt himself in the fall. I tried reasoning with the men to let Harper go, but they ignored me and started beating the poor child. There must have been about six of them, and Harper had no means of defending himself. Seeing him being punched and kicked and spat upon, I threw myself into the frenzy and scared a few of them off, but then one of them must have hit me over the back of the head with something—a bottle perhaps—and I passed out. When I came to, I just saw Harper being forcibly thrown to the ground, hand cuffed and dragged into a police ship by three policemen. I tried standing up to go to him and help him, but then I discovered that the lovely gentlemen who had beaten up Harper had decided to try their hand at me—while I was unconscious no less. Cowards, the lot of them. Yes, they will beat to death a smaller and weaker person, but they won't face an old magog—anyway, I was a bit bruised, but other than that, I'm fine. Right away, I was going to go to the police headquarters and explain the situation and make them release Harper, but then I realized that my presence would probably not get the desired results and I had better get you first."

Beka had listened to the entire story without batting an eyelash. She had narrowed her eyes when she heard of the men making fun of Harper and had clenched her jaw when she heard about how they had beaten them both up. 

Slowly standing up, I could see the anger sparking in her eyes. She clenched her hands into fists. 

"Well, if they took Harper then we'll just have to get him back, and I swear, we'll find those bastards and stick them into the cell Harper is sitting in right now, even if it means sitting here until next year." She vowed, her voice filled with anger and determination. 

Turning around, she marched down the corridor towards the cockpit, asking me to immediately hail the police headquarters. She didn't want to waste precious time walking over there. Besides, she was angry enough to kill someone, so having her walking around by herself wasn't such a good idea at the moment. 

Not wasting a minute, I diverted my anger into my hailing system and in a frenzy went to work trying to reach the headquarters. A few badly built firewalls were blocking my signal, but I was so angry that I just blew them to pieces with a few codes Beka had programmed into me for just such emergencies. With satisfaction, I watched my signal reach the headquarters. 

When somebody hurts my crew, they hurt me as well. Beka isn't the only one who says that. 

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Two hours later, I had finally fought my way into the headquarters and had tried contacting every single operator there was in the place, but everytime, my signal would be ignored or cut off. I was getting so damn frustrated with them that I finally sent over a masked signal which appeared to be coming from somebody official and important and not from a rusty little cargo hauler. 

Ten seconds later, two operators answered my hail. 

Suckers. 

Beka greeted them with a wide smile as she sat in her piloting chair. She knew as well as I did that getting snarky with operators never got her anything in the long run. They would just disconnect her, and besides, operators didn't have any say over anything anyway, so they were basically a waste of time. A waste of time who you had to be polite to.

"How can I help you, m'm?" the operator asked in a phoney, sugary sweet voice. From the frown on her face and the way she emphasized her nasal accent, I could tell that she hadn't been amused by my prank. 

Beka grinned. "Hi. I don't want to bother you for too long, but I just want to speak with a person who you have in your custody."

She gave Beka a bored look. "What's the name of this individual?"

"Seamus Harper."

The woman turned away from Beka and punched something into her computer. She raised an eyebrow and turned back to Beka. 

"He's in heavy lock-up right now. He was giving us problems when we brought him in so we stuck him into isolation until tomorrow morning. I'm afraid you can't speak to him, but you can speak to a warden."

Beka stared at her. "Why the hell is he in heavy lock-up?"

Even the old captain had never been put into heavy lock-up, even after he threw a bartender out of the bar and completely trashed the bar and then fought with the cops who had picked him up. 

The woman blinked at her. "M'm, I'm just an operator. I don't know the specifics of anything. All I know is what the computer tells me. You have to discuss this with the warden."

Sighing and gritting her teeth, Beka forced the smile on her face not to waver. "Well then, could you please connect me with this warden?"

Rolling her eyes and sighing, the woman punched a few things into her computer. Moments later, the screen went blank and my signal was diverted to a tiny transmitter attached to a warden's sleeve. He was walking up and down aisles of cells, but paused when he heard the transmitter beep. Lifting his arm up and looking at the small screen and turned it on.

"Yeah, Warden Mikals here, m'm. What can I do for you?"

Beka's grin widened. She had learned long ago that being nice to wardens was the best way to get somebody out of jail quickly. If talking and smiling didn't work, then leaning forward and pulling her top down a little bit did the trick too.

"Warden Mikals, I'm looking for a Seamus Harper. You picked him up a little while ago."

The warden nodded, but his eyes narrowed slightly when he heard the name. "Yeah, that bag of attitude. We got him a few hours ago. We were going to put him in regular until he started swearing and trying to run off. Took three men to hold him down and drag him down the hall." He whistled and held up his other hand. I could see a distinct bite mark on his hand and the skin around it was slightly bruised too and had turned a dark blue. "You see that? That's where the piece of crap bit me when I tried tightening his cuffs. Anyway, we had enough of that and we dragged him into heavy for the night. Maybe he'll learn over night to control his temper and keep that attitude to himself."

Beka struggled to keep on smiling. Here she was, trying to get Harper out, and he was biting people and being snarky. From experience, I knew Harper hadn't helped his situation out.

Leaning forward, Beka immediately jumped to Plan B. Tugging her shirt down a little, she gave him hundred watt smile. "But warden, I don't understand why he's in jail at all. You see, I think there was a huge misunderstanding. I don't think you know all the details. You see, another person started the argument at the bar and was insulting Harper and then the bartender—Charlie I believe, maybe you know him?—he wanted to throw Harper out, even though he hadn't been doing anything wrong and hadn't started the insulting and snide remarks. So, being accused of something he didn't do, he got angry and he might have damaged some things in the bar, but other than that, he didn't do anything wrong. He wasn't the one who had insulted the other guys, and he hadn't beat them up. In all due to respect, sir, you got the wrong person."

The warden raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on his face. "M'm, where there's an earther concerned, nobody has ever accused the wrong person."

Beka frowned, her smile wavering. "Pardon?"

He shook his head slightly, obviously amused by her ignorance. "You obviously don't know much about your little leased thing, do you? They're all full of attitude, dangerous and dirty. They kill without a second thought and steal anything they can get their grubby paws on. They're a threat to society, m'm and they shouldn't be allowed to run around the known worlds by themselves. Thank god they can't just leave their planets without belonging to someone, but when people like you don't follow the rules and let them roam around freely, then things get messy. It's like having a filthy rat running around the place. It stinks, it bites, it takes whatever it can find and it's perfectly happy living in a dumpster. You see, m'm, they don't belong in this society, up here. They don't belong with people like you and me. The less of them that are running around freely, the better. I don't know about you, but having just one of them sitting in heavy lock-up for the night makes me breath a little easier." He chuckled quietly. 

Beka's smile had completely vanished, and anger had flooded her face when she saw how completely prejudiced the warden was being. Hot anger flashed in her eyes and she sat up straight, yanking her shirt back up.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she spat, her voice trembling. "How dare you talk about Harper as if he was some disgusting insect that needs to be squished in order to make everyone's lives better?"

He grinned. "Because that's what they all are, m'm. Disgusting insects. It's an insult to call them anything else."

"They're people, warden! People! People like you and me. The only difference is that they have grown up in hell and suffered through things which you don't even know about. How dare you dismiss them as dirty, stupid animals? They're all stronger and smarter than you and I, but because of idiots like you, they never had the chance to prove it." She was yelling now, completely outraged, but she didn't care. 

The warden's expression hardened. "Think what you want, m'm, but I know that deep down, you're just as glad that the Nietzscheans keep them locked up in camps and we keep them locked up in jails rather than having the lot of them running around, slitting our throats and robbing us blind. Now, I don't give a damn who started this argument, but it was between a respectable spacer and a mudfoot. The laws on most decent planet dictate that the mudfoot can always be held accountable, no matter what happened."

Shaking from pent up anger, Beka was about to lash out again, but from the way the warden raised his eyebrow, she knew that she'd never get Harper out by yelling at him, no matter what he said about Harper and mudfeet in general. Swallowing her anger a little, she forced a faint smile onto her face. 

"What charges are being pressed against him?" she demanded to know.

The warden glanced down and typed around on a tiny pad which was attached to his transmitter. Green vedran letters flowed across the tiny screen. 

"Well, being a nuisance first of all and disrupting the public peace. Then he's got assault with a weapon, uttering threats, damaging private property and public intoxication."

The warden deleted the list and glanced at Beka.

Beka was clenching her jaw to keep a hold of herself. Harper didn't deserve half of those charges and all three of us knew it, but Beka knew that arguing with him was pointless. Mudfeet had no rights in the known world, and there was nothing Beka could do that would change that. No amount of yelling, threatening and pleading would change the warden's attitude. Every single universe needs a scape goat, a group of beings to blame everything on and whom everybody could hate and despise and be seen as better than, no matter who they were. In this universe, the mudfeet had been choosen. Poor and suffering people who had lived lives of agony and terror and the few who did escape, only found that they faced worlds of hate and anger. 

It easily explains why so many of them fight against being leased out or being carted off on slave transports.

Biting her lip, Beka decided to just go along with the turn of events and get Harper out any way she could. Even if she could only get him out after a whole bucketful of charges were thrown onto his record, she'd still get him out. 

"Warden, I'm not going to fight you or argue with you, because I know it's useless. But I'll ask you this. When will he be released?"

The warden chuckled. "Not any time soon. Never if I can have a say in it. They're too dangerous and filthy to run around freely."

Beka's eyes looked murderous. "Alright, I'll change my question. How much do I have to pay you to release him?"

Another quiet, amused chuckle. "M'm, first of all, the bail's 300 thrones, which ain't a sum cargo haulers can easily afford, and second of all, only his legal leaser can get him out. It's the way the system works. We don't release them to any wide eyed, pity fool who comes along. God, we'd have Nietzscheans all over us and have their legal leasers on our asses too."

Beka's smile brightened a bit. At least she could get Harper out of there. It would cost her an arm and a leg, but she could get him out. If she didn't, god knew how long they would keep him in there.

"Well, in that case, I'll send you over the 300 thrones and you can release him in the next two minutes."

The warden's eyebrows shot up. "You're his leaser?"

Beka nodded. "Damn straight, and you got anything to say about it, you can keep it to yourself, thank you."

He didn't even blink, but his jaw tightened a little. "I'll need to see the legal contract."

Nodding, Beka turned around to another console and typed around on it. Immediately, I set to work filing through old data folders, and moments later, I found the contract in Beka's 'family' folder. Spitting it onto the screen, I waited for Beka to push the right button, which she did moments later, and then I sent it hurling through cyber space to the warden's transmitter. 

After he read through it and saw that it was legitimate, his eyes darkened, but he nodded tensely.

"Well, this crap looks legal. Send over the 300 and we'll release him. But we ain't bringing him a step further than throwing him out the front door. If he does anything else out there before you grab him, we'll lock him up and no amount of your money or legal contracts will get him out." He was about to turn away from her, but then he remembered something. "And by the way, you have to pay the fine for the damage he caused to the bar. He busted the shelf, a few tables, the window and a stool which he threw over the counter and smashed a glass display case behind it. That'll be 450 thrones."

Beka's jaw tightened when she heard the ridiculously large sum and the long list of crap the warden had made up.

"You know as well as I do that he didn't break half of that stuff. He broke the window and three damn scotch bottles—"

The warden gave her a hard look, ignoring her. "It'll be 450. Pay it or leave your mudfoot here."

Glaring at him, she viciously punched 750 into the console beside her and sent over the money. Moments later, the warden nodded and turned around and yelled down the hall that 'the mudfoot' should be released and escorted under heavy guard to the door. Another warden yelled down the hall about what they should do if Harper decided to get snarky. Our darling warden gave him a cold smile and told him to just beat it out of him and then throw him out the door. Spitting on the floor, he shrugged and said that if Harper died on the doorstep, he personally wouldn't be shedding any tears. 

Minutes after I cut their connection, Beka got off her chair and ran down the corridor. Quickly checking in on Rev, who was lying in the crew quarters on his bunk, resting his foot, she yelled that she was going to pick Harper up.

She had already reached my airlock when she remembered that she had forgotten her gun. Swearing under her breath, she doubled back, yanked her gun out from beside her bed and shoved it into her holster. Pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, she ran back to the airlock and opened it. 

I wanted to tell her that there was no need to hurry. I had spotted Harper walking into the docking station a few seconds after Beka realized she had left her gun behind. 

He limped into the station, grimacing every few steps. His clothes had been torn and there was a gash on his forehead and his lip was cut too. His elbow was bleeding too and there was an ugly bruise around his ribs, but I quickly determined they hadn't been broken. 

He was carrying his knife in his hand, tightly clutching it, and every few steps, he'd throw a fearful, tense look over his shoulder and stare into the darkness surrounding the few ships still parked in their docking spaces.

He stared at me and his eyes widened when he saw Beka standing in my airlock. Beka narrowed her eyes and stared down the empty station corridor towards him, not immediately recognizing him from the dim light of the station lights. When she did realize who it was, her breath caught in her throat and she gasped.

"Harper!" She leapt out of my airlock and ran across the dark floor towards him. Reaching him, she pulled him into a fierce hug. 

Pulling back, she still held onto his arms and quickly looked him up and down. 

"Did they hurt you?"

Harper shrugged, but when Beka raised her eyebrows and gave him that look, he quickly shook his head. "Nah, not to much. They ain't broke nothing and bruises and cuts heal easily."

Beka sighed with obvious relief. "I was so damn worried, shorty. For a minute there I thought I wouldn't be able to get you out of there, and you know how much that scared me?"

Turning around and putting her arm around his shoulders, they slowly walked back towards me. 

She gave him a grin and ruffled his hair. "You know how damn glad I am to have you back in one piece?"

Harper smiled. "You should be. It's a long trip back to earth if you wanted another cheap engineer. Besides, I don't know if they'll let you lease another person if you claim you lost the other."

Laughing and gently wapping him over the back of the head, she helped him into my airlock and slammed it shut behind her. She shook her head, still laughing

"Oh, Harper. Shut up and get your ass into the kitchen. I have to fix up those cuts of yours, and if you so much as utter one tiny syllable of complaint, I'm throwing you into the boiler."

Smiling at the old threat, Harper rolled his eyes. "You're one of a kind, boss, you know that?"

Beka laughed and walked towards the kitchen. "Every single person on this ship is one of a kind, Seamus, and you know what?" she stopped walking and smiled at him. "I wouldn't have it any other way."


	32. Chapter 32

The Diaries Chapter 32 

Author's Ramble: I'm sorry this is so late, but with classes having started I won't have as much time to write as before, but I guess that goes for all authors. Anyway, here's the next part. A lot of you, especially Paris, have been asking about Harper's port, and well, here's the beginning of it. On another note, I know and understand nothing about cerebral technology or cyber space and the things I made up here and will make up in future chapters come out of my twisted, way too active imagination. Hope it's not too off the mark. By the way, Lauriena, I loved your song! I started singing it too, but when I got weird looks from the other people sitting in my darling university library, I stopped. 

Anyway, have fun reading and tell me how you liked it. Feedback, as always, is much loved, treasured, re-read and tucked into bed every night with a lullaby.

Database Records Archive: 79 (10084)

Specific Time: A week before the new year

Beka was sitting at the table, Rev standing beside her and Harper sitting beside her, all three of them widely grinning at the person sitting in the chair across the table. 

For the first time all year, their smiles were geniune. Our client was actually decent and nice and didn't smell bad or swear. His clothes were all neat and crisp and his manners were impecible and he wasn't the type of person whom you easily found up here. 

Which was why the whole situation was made funnier by the fact that he is the boss and owner of the largest drug smuggeling ring in this system. 

We had already negotiated a fair and pretty decent contract, and my crew was laughing themselves hoarse while they listened to Mr. De Winters stories of deliveries going wrong. None of them actually called him Mr.De Winters. After he had shaken hands and listened to Harper stumbling over his name, he had waved a hand, grinned at them and said that they should just call him Keith, like everyone else. 

Beka and Harper had been suspicious of him at first. It had happened too often that a client had smiled at them and eagerly promised them the sky, while turning around and running off with their money. Once bitten—well, you know. 

But after talking to him for about an hour and pouring over the contract for any fine print they might have missed and not finding it, they both gradually relaxed and forced themselves to believe that maybe this guy was actually nice and legit. 

Keither leaned back, crossing his arms and laughing quietly. 

"So then one of my boys—Davie I think it was—lands the glider and then goes up to the docking patrol with the blue hair and the piercings, just as our client had instructed him to, and tells him that Keith's shipment is here. The guy gives him a funny look, but shrugs it off and goes to open a crate in the glider. Two minutes later, he comes running out of the glider and whispers in a complete outrage that the entire glider is full of Nethyl and Flash and other illegal substances, and where the hell are the damn medical herbs he was here to inspect? Davie gives him a wide grin, apologizes and then starts going on and on about what a huge misunderstanding it was, and he had picked up the shipment and had come to hand it over to the cops and so on and on, until finally, the guy nods. Then Davie asks him if he knows another docking patrol with blue hair and piercings. He says yeah, so then Davie goes and flies over there and finally gives the shipment to the right guy. Man, he was so pissed. Right away, he gives me a call and demands to know why he landed in the wrong docking space, when our client specifically told him it was number eight. So I contact the guy, and he starts stuttering that he swore he'd punched in number nine, but with his bad vision, he couldn't really tell them apart and just took a guess." Keith shook his head, chuckling while his eyes twinkled. "I thought I'd choke to death laughing. I had to tell Davie and he just blew up for a few minutes, until he decided it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. I mean, that docking patrols face when he opened the crate! I would have died laughing on the spot, I tell you."

Harper was nearly choking on his beer and Beka had to slap him on the back a few times, but she was laughing too. Rev's eyes were twinkling in amusement. He'd learned a long time ago not to laugh around strangers. Although Keith was alright with Rev's presence, the sight of a magog laughing could be misinterpreted, so Rev avoided those situations all together and kept his mouth shut and his teeth out of sight.

Growing serious again, Keith leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together. 

"So, Captain Valentine, I know that under normal circumstances, you and I would have never met, but I hope you understand that these are special circumstances and not some kind of plot to stab you in the back and rip your ship or payment away from you. As I have told you before, normally, my boys deliver everything themselves, but we had a huge shipment to deliver to Iridentia and at the same time, I had this tiny one to bring to Ruben Drift. I thought I would have enough ships for everything, but I'm one short, and unfortunately, I need that ship for the Ruben run. I heard of your reputation and I know about your indifference to legal or illegal shipments so that's the only reason I contacted you." When Beka still looked at him with a hint of mistrust in her eyes and Harper shifted around, not meeting anybody's eye but occasionally giving Beka little cautious glances, Keith smiled at them and sighed quietly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a flexi and gave it to Beka. 

"If you turn it on, you'll see all my boys packing our gliders full and leaving for Iridentia. If you play the file in the contract folder labelled Iridentia, you'll also find the contract and the number of ships and the size of the cargo the run has. Lastly, if you're still unsure, you can find general stats in the main folder where you'll see that the number of ships I have are the same number that are being used."

Beka quietly took the flexi and played it. Immediately, the blankness was replaced by a flurry of movement and color. People were running around in what appeared to be an underground docking station. Crates were everywhere and people were carrying them around, counting them or throwing them up to people standing the open airlocks of the gliders. They yelled around to each other, laughed and swore from time to time. There was one person standing there with a flexi, carefully inspecting the crates and from time to time yelling that there wasn't enough of something in such and such a crate and would somebody go and grab some more? 

Nodding, Beka went and looked over the contract. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows flew up and Harper gasped—and Rev looked very disapproving—when the number of crates and number of bottles of Flash, Nethyl, Crystal and other drugs came up. I've never come across such a large shipment.

Keith smiled and shrugged. "Iridentia is well known for being a place for hard drug addicts. They all find their way over there at some point during their miserable, short lives." He shrugged again, seeming indifferent to the fact that his deliveries were just helping kill these people. "But hey, it was their choice originally. I didn't force them to start using. And now that they are, I simply use their addiction to my advantage."

Beka gave him an absentminded smile. I knew that deep down, she hated this run. She hated flying around illegal drugs which killed hundreds of people everyday and to which she had lost her father, first emotionally, and years later, physically. She had always hated drugs and drug users in general. She would never accept the idea that some people had nowhere else to turn other than drugs. Still feeling hurt from the years of her father drowning in grief over her mother's death and never turning to her or Rafe, but instead, turning to bottles of white liquid, my captain had long ago sworn never to involve herself in the endless cycle of drugs. However, busting Harper out of jail and paying that ridiculous fine for broken things which he had never even touched had left us without a single throne. Between paying that and paying off the debts and loans we had taken out, we didn't have any money left. My crew had even started rummaging through the cargohold to find old cans of peas and soup to eat. Eating out or buying groceries wasn't in our budget. So, in pure desperation, my captain had agreed to take this job. She hated the job and herself for having taken it, but she knew that her crew needed it and in the long run, it would pay off. 

Pushing those thoughts aside, she went back to the flexi and carefully looked it over and then went to the main folder and looked at the number of ships he had on hand. Looking up, she gave Rev and Harper a look. Rev gave her a nod and Harper shrugged. He was still wary, but then again, earthers have never been people to throw themselves into anything without being suspicious before, during and after. Harper shrugging was a way of saying that the situation was good enough for him and the final choice was Beka's. 

Beka looked at Keith and finally nodded. "Well, what can I say? Everything looks legit." She held up a hand. "I'll admit, you came prepared. I'm a little surprised."

Keith gave her an understanding smile. "I knew you'd be sceptical and suspicious, so I came prepared. Don't worry. I used to be a hauler myself until I fell into the drug smuggeling business and found my little cranny in the universe. Everybody has their own little gift, I guess."

Beka smiled. She might hate this run and she might hate what this man would be putting into her cargohold in 13 hours, but Keith was somebody who wasn't such an unlikable person. 

I personally liked Keith. It wasn't everyday that you came across somebody who was tough, smart and was successful, but also had a sense of humor and understood how life worked so well. He reminded me of somebody else. At first, I was hesitant to make the connection between them, since one of them was sitting at ease in his chair, smiling and his eyes twinkling, and the other one was sitting beside Beka, tense and suspicious, staring at Keith with wary, cautious eyes. But deep down, they were nearly the same person. It was remarkable.

After Beka bit her lip and inwardly berated herself for doing this, she exchanged one more glance with her crew, and then signed the contract which we had previously argued out. 

Smiling, Keith picked up the contract, put it into his leather jacket and then stood up.

"I have taken the liberty of uploading the coordinates of our headquarters and loading bay into your main computer." He sighed and seemed to think something over. "Captain, I left them in your main folder, since I didn't want to mess around in files that weren't any of my business, but if you want me to, I can stick them right into your auto-pilot memory banks. The headquarters are hard to find and very well hidden—"

Beka nodded. "Obviously."

He smiled. "So I don't think you'll be able to find them on your own in the amount of time you have. This is a very tight run, Captain. I apologize for the inconvenient timing, but I only became aware of the ship shortage a while ago."

Beka thought it over, gave Keith a suspicious glance over, and then nodded. "Alright, but as long as you do things nice and slow and I can follow them on my view screen."

Keith nodded. "Of course."

Turning around, he walked down the corridor towards the cockpit, rummaging through his pocket as he went. Before he reached the cockpit, he pulled out a long cord and a metal jack.

Beka had gotten up to follow him, but Harper was frantically yanking on her sleeve.

"Boss, are you crazy? You're giving that guy access to our computer's main frame? Do you have any idea how crazy that is? You don't know what he'll do!" He whispered, his eyes wide and his voice frantic and tense.

Beka smiled and rolled her eyes. "Relax, shorty. I have everything under control. He'll jack in and upload the coordinates into the Maru's auto-pilot memory banks and I'll be sitting at the console, watching his every single move. If he even looks the wrong way while he's in there, I'll shut down the mainframe and put up security walls around him. He won't be able to move." Walking towards the door, Beka didn't see the confused frown creeping over Harper's face and she didn't hear the mystified voice asking: "He'll be in where?!"

Rev chuckled from behind them and rolled his eyes. Turning away from the table, he started washing the breakfast dishes, hoping that Beka remembered Harper had never seen a cerebral port before in his life and he didn't know how they worked. 

Beka went right over to the console in the cockpit and sat down. She typed around and punched in a few commands until I spat up the main folder for her and then split my screen in half and showed her my auto-pilot memory banks at the same time. My captain would be able to observe the transfer every step of the way. 

As I watched Keith humming to himself as he straightened out the cord and sat down beside the console, leaning against the metal post. He glanced up at Beka.

"Is it alright if I stay here?"

Beka smiled down at him. "As long as you promise not to fall over, rip the cord out of your neck and kill yourself, you can sit anywhere you want."

Keith grinned. "I try, m'm. I try."

Harper was standing a few paces behind Beka. He had been watching her typing things on the console and had carefully made sure all the right screens came up, but when he saw Keith sitting down, he looked down at him, confusion on his face.

As Keith inserted one end of the metal cord into the bottom of the console, Harper quietly crept up beside Beka and leaned down. 

"What's he doing?" He whispered. 

Beka smiled. "You'll see. Just watch."

Harper cautiously moved over so he could see Keith, but he kept a wary hand on the back of Beka's chair, ready to run and hide as soon as Keith did something weird. 

Keith felt the wary, mistrusting eyes on him and he glanced up and gave Harper a reassuring smile, although he misunderstood Harper's mistrust. 

"Don't worry, Mr.Harper. I promise I'll only mess around with things I need to. You can watch everything I do on the screen."

When Harper didn't say anything, just continued giving him that unwavering, wary stare, Keith shrugged it off and leaned back. With one hand, Keith pulled the collar of his leather jacket down and revealed the metal disc implanted on the side of his neck. 

Harper's eyes widened as he stared at it. It looked like he was going to come closer and look at it, but he decided that staying behind Beka was safer. 

He stared curiously as Keith used one hand to hold the metal jack and the other hand to keep the metal disc still. Harper's eyes widened as Keith moved the jack up and slowly slid it into the port until it had completely disappeared. 

Harper leapt back, uttering a small curse as he did. He was staring at Keith as if he was some demon, not another person. 

Beka glanced over her shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "Shorty, calm down, it's okay. It's just a cerebral port."

Harper didn't have  a clue as to what a cerebral port was, but that didn't interest him at the moment. He was still staring warily at Keith, who had winced slightly as the metal jack slid in. 

Harper leaned over to Beka. 

"Can you's ask him if that hurt?" he whispered in a barely audible voice. 

Beka smiled and rolled her eyes, but knew that Harper was still shy about speaking to strangers who were obviously from a social class above his own, due to the fear of saying something that was out of place and being punished because of it. 

Beka turned to Keith, who had just locked the jack into place and was about to disappear into my cyber frame. 

"Harper would like to know if that hurt, Keith."

Keith smiled and waved a hand. "Nah, not too bad. I've had mine for about eight years. It hurt like a bitch the first few times I used it, but after a while, you hardly notice it. It's the worst at the beginning when you first slide it in. Nerve endings and crap."

Taking a deep breath, he gave Harper a reassuring grin, who only stared back at him silently in apprehension, and then Keith closed his eyes and flung himself into cyber space.

It's an eerie feeling really. Having _something_—not a human, not an entity, but more like a consciousness which feels strangely alive—hurl itself into your mind. It's hard to explain, but suddenly, it's like having what humans call a 'voice in the back of your mind' but literally. When that consciousness speaks, it carries through your com system and comes out as your voice and whatever that consciousness thinks or does, it's like a part of you is thinking it of doing it, but you're not really doing anything. That consciousness becomes a part of you and can control your every move, and if you don't have an AI—unlike _some_ ships—then you're completely powerless to kick the being out or control it's movements. That's why I can't stand it when a stranger interfaces with me. It's like having my mind being taken over by a stranger who can control me and make me do anything he or she wants. I guess this is what people feel when they're on drugs. I shuddered. Thankfully, ships don't have drug problems. We just have interface problems. 

Andromeda grimaces and tells me that's the worst joke she's heard in 300 years. I ignore her and act mildly insulted and continue with the record.

Harper didn't take his eyes off of Keith as the latter's consciousness rushed into me and left his—literally—mindless body behind. 

Slumped against the console, Keith's body was still breathing, his heart was still beating and he was every bit as alive as Harper and Beka, with the only exception being that his mind was somewhere else. It's like being brain dead except that your body still works. 

Beka was frowning in concentration as she carefully watched Keith enter my mind and walk around until he found my main folder. I didn't take my sensors off him as he wandered around, whistling quietly. He walked over to a bunch of data strings which floated around, little green vedran letters flowing along them at speeds that Keith's real body would have never been able to follow. Narrowing his eyes, Keith carefully rummaged around in them—which felt so weird that I won't even attempt to describe it—until he found the few strings into which he had inserted the coordinates to his headquarters. Removing them as gently as possible, he held them in his virtual hands and then started walking towards my auto-pilot memory banks. He got turned around once and went the wrong way, so I threw up a mild firewall, which gave him a tiny shock when he walked into it, but he quickly realized what I had intended to do, and he thanked me and went the other way. When he reached my auto-pilot memory banks, he carefully stepped the flickering lines of the folder's edges and started rummaging around in the billions of different data strings which streamed around everywhere. Concentrating, he moved around and from time to time, reached in and gently tugged a few strings out until he could read them. When he finally found the right date and found the current record of where I was flying at this moment, he smiled and inserted the new data strings after the previous ones. Tugging them into place, he glanced up at the 'ceiling'. If you can call the top of your mind that. 

"All done, Captain. Do you see them?"

Beka squinted at the screen she was sitting infront of and carefully poured over my auto-pilot memory bank list. Scrolling down, she blinked a few times at the tiny print. She nearly scrolled right past it, so I did her a favor and highlighted the new data. Right away, she saw it and smiled. 

"Yup, they're here. I see them."

Keith's virtual self smiled. "Alright. In that case, I'm going out. I'll be right there."

Turning around, he closed his virtual eyes and launched himself out of my cyber frame and back along the cord towards his body. 

Database Records Archive: 80 (10088)

Now, under normal circumstances, and for pure security reasons, the only parts of this incident which would be deemed important would be what Keith was doing in my mind, so on the official record I've kept the record you've just seen as the only existing one. But while Keith was rummaging around in my data stream, what was occuring outside my mind in the cockpit was so funny and later on, became so important, that I simply had to keep my internal sensors on and record both incidences at once. So, for no security reason and for pure entertainment purposes—don't roll your eyes at me, Andromeda—I'll show you that one. 

Database Records Archive: 79 (10084)

Specific Time: Continuation of record 79 (the unofficial, deemed 'unimportant' record)

While Keith's virtual self or rather, his consciousness was busy walking around, rumming around in data streams and walking into fire walls and Beka was busy monitoring the transfer of the coordinates from one folder to another, Harper was staring at Keith as if he was a demon. 

Never having seen a cerebral port before in his life, he was fascinated, but at the same time, terrified. As usual, his instincts refused to accept that anything new that was thrown his way didn't have a small potential for danger and fear. 

He stood behind Beka and pretended to be watching the screen, but he constantly kept on looking over at Keith's slumped over body with wary, cautious eyes. 

He looked like he wanted to go closer to him, but the entire situation was too new for him and his mind screamed at him not to touch Keith but instead, to run as far as he could as quick as he could. So, stuck between instinct and curiousity, he kept a tight hold of the back of Beka's chair and nervously chewed on his lip as he kept on staring at Keith with wide eyes. 

While Keith was busy transfering the coordinates, Beka yawned and stretched, knowing that at this point, I could take care of things. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Harper's unwavering, fearful eyes staring at Keith. She grinned at him. 

"You can go over there and touch him if you want. He won't feel a thing. His body might be here, but his mind is in the Maru right now."

Harper tore his eyes off of Keith long enough to give Beka a confused look. 

"Whatcha mean his mind ain't here? That ain't possible."

Beka laughed. "Of course it is. That's why it's called a cerebral port, silly. His mind or his consciousness left his body behind and went into the Maru's mind."

Harper frowned. "But his body can't life without his mind."

"Not in the usual circumstances, but in this case, yes."

Harper stared at Keith. Glancing at Beka, who gave him a little, coaxing glance, he crouched down and slowly shuffled closer to Keith's still body. 

Harper was so busy being tense and trying to keep himself from running away, that he didn't notice the slight twitches in Keith's body and the fact that Keith was still breathing. 

Glancing from side to side and chewing on his lip, he crept closer, his face pale and tense. 

Beka didn't move while she watched him. Although a part of her knew that Keith wouldn't be 'waking up' anytime soon, she was ready to launch herself towards him and get Harper away from him if he did. Who knew what they would do to each other if Keith 'woke up' with Harper just inches away from him?

Shaking slightly, Harper crouched back on his heels beside Keith and stretched out one shaking hand towards him. 

Swallowing hard and gritting his teeth, he risked one glance over his shoulder at Beka, who laughed and told him that Keith wouldn't wake up, and that he didn't need to worry.

While all of his instincts screamed at him to run away or kill Keith while he still had the chance, Harper clenched his jaw and reached forward and gently touched Keith's cheek. Although Keith's mind wasn't aware of the touch, his body was still alive in every sense of the word, and it choose that moment to slump a little over and groan quietly, although Keith's mind wasn't aware of that either. It's one of the reasons interfacing is so dangerous. When your mind leaves your body, your body can be hurt brutally to the point of killing it, and you wouldn't be aware of it until you've come back to your body. If your body was killed while you were in cyber space, you'd come back and the moment your mind returned to your body, your mind would die too. But it also has an advantage. Because you can't feel anything in cyber space and you aren't aware of your body's pain, cyber space can also be an outlet and a place of freedom. Years later, when the larvae in Harper's stomache were acting up and he was too scared to go to Trance and be greeted with bad news, he'd simply leave his body and it's pain and misery behind and hide in cyber space for a few hours. Rommie knew what he was doing and why, but she put up with it and only gently kicked him out when his mind started tiring and she knew he could fall asleep while inside of her. 

As soon as Keith moved slightly and groaned, Harper's eyes widened and he leapt backwards. His hand flew down to his pant leg and he yanked out his knife. Shuffling backwards as soon as he hit the ground, he crouched by the doorway, one hand clutching the doorframe and the other holding his knife pointing at Keith. He was shaking and pale and obviously scared out of his wits. Breathing heavily and terrified, he didn't take his eyes off of Keith. 

Right away, Beka pushed herself off her chair and ran over to Harper. Crouching down infront of him and tactfully blocking his view of Keith, she stayed still, trying to catch his wandering, scared eyes, but didn't lift a hand towards him, knowing that he'd misinterpret her intentions. 

"Harper, you're okay. Everything's okay. You with me, shorty? You're okay. Keith just scared you a little and I understand that, but he didn't hurt you. I wasn't joking when I said he wasn't dead but his mind still left his body."

Harper stared at her with wide eyes, his mind not being able to grasp the meaning of her words. 

"You mean he's like a breathing corpse?" he shrank away from her as if she had somehow planned this. 

Beka struggled to keep her laughter hidden and kept her face serious. "No, he's not a corpse, Harper. He's still very much alive, but his mind has just left his body for a little while. As soon as he's done messing around with the Maru's files in her mind, he'll come back out and he'll be reunited with his body."

Harper was slowly starting to calm down but he still didn't loose that glimmer of suspicion within his eyes. 

"It sounds too weird for me."

Beka smiled. "I know it does, but trust me, it's normal. A lot of people have them. They cost a hell of a lot of money and I don't completely understand how the things work, but they're normal. You can use them to enter a ship's mind and control the ship from within. You can move files around, you can retrieve data that's been lost somewhere else, and lots of other neat stuff. It's just kind of scary when somebody you don't know is doing it, since you don't know what they're going to do, but it's a great time saver."

Harper's eyes had lost that glimmer of fear and mistrust, and although he still looked wary, a spark of interest had lit up.

"You mean you can tell the ship to do things and she'll do it?" 

Beka smiled. "Well, you'd have to find the right data stream and change the codes or whatever the hell people do in there but yeah, you can do all kinds of neat stuff."

Harper swallowed. "And you're sure the people don't die?"

Beka smiled. "I'm sure. Just watch. In a minute, Keith will be done and he'll come back out and be reunited with his body and he'll be just like before."

Nodding slowly, Harper settled back and leaned against the door. While Beka moved back to the console to keep an eye on things, Harper went back to staring at Keith from across the room, curiousity and wariness in his eyes. 

When Keith's disembodied voice suddenly came through the com, Harper jumped and stared around himself and then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Keith's body. 

While Beka answered him and typed around on the console until she saw the highlighted data on the screen, she glanced at Harper and smiled at him. 

"That's his mind doing the talking, shorty. Not his body."

Harper stared at her and pretended to understand, but right away went back to staring at Keith. 

Slowly, Keith's consciousness came rushing back into his body and he groaned and slowly sat up and opened his eyes. Harper's eyes widened and he pulled his knees up to his chest as Keith stretched and yawned. Reaching up, he pulled the jack out of his port and rubbed his neck. Gripping the console above him, he pulled himself up and looked at the computer screen. 

He nodded. "Okay, it's there. May I?" When Beka nodded, he leaned over her and typed in a few commands. Moments later, I turned on my auto-pilot and started towards the coordinates he had programmed into me. 

Mumbling to himself, Keith glanced at Beka. "We should be there in about four hours. If you prefer, I can sit in my glider until we arrive."

Beka waved a hand. "No need. You're welcome to stay here if you like."

Keith smiled and nodded in thanks. 

It was only then that he saw Harper crouching by the door, staring at him as if he was seeing a ghost. 

Slightly disturbed by the unwavering, wary stare, Keith glanced down at Beka. 

"Is he alright?"

Beka glanced at Harper and gave him a gentle smile. "Yeah, he just won't believe me when I tell him you didn't just come back from the dead." Turning around, Beka pinched Keith in the side. Not being prepared for it, Keith yelped in surpise and leapt back. 

Making no apologies, Beka pointed at him. "You see, Harper? He's every bit as alive as you and me. He didn't die, his mind just left for a little while."

Harper stared at her. "That ain't possible, boss."

Sighing, Beka turned the console off. Keith was staring at Harper, looking slightly confused. 

"It's really alright, Mr.Harper. I'm quite alright. My neck's a little sore, but that's my own fault. I always get a crink in my neck after sitting still for so long." He tilted his head and looked down at Harper. When he saw that his words were having no effect on him, he glanced at Beka, who was giving Harper reassuring smiles. 

"Why the hell is he so terrified?"

Beka waved a hand at Keith. "Oh, he's just never seen a port before."

Keith's eyebrows flew up. "Never seen a port before? Where the hell is he from?" Keith laughed slightly as he asked the question.

Beka was fiddling around with a loose thread on her shirt. "Earth." She answered curtly, not looking up. The tone of her voice indicated that this thread of discussion was now over.

Keith immediately turned his laughter in an embarrassed cough and suddenly had a hard time meeting either Beka or Harper's eyes. 

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Beka ignored him. It wasn't often that people found out where Harper was from, and it wasn't something that Beka or Harper liked to flaunt around. It always turned the nicest, most open and friendly person into an embarrassed muddle of shifty eyes and pity. Beka couldn't stand it that people treated Harper differently when they found out where he had grown up, and Harper hated the pity and embarrassment that always accompanied it, so they both refrained from bringing it up. The only times Beka had to say it was to explain some of Harper's peculiar behaviors, such as this one. 

Keith was staring at Harper, trying to keep the amazement and pity from seeing too obvious. 

Beka walked over to Harper and reached down and pulled him up. She kept a firm hand on his arm, keeping him from falling back down or running away. Although Keith couldn't see it, she was gently rubbing her thumb in little circles on Harper's arm, calming him down and reminding him that everything was okay and that she was still here. 

Breaking the uncomfortable silence, Beka held out her hand. "If it doesn't bother you too much, Keith, could I borrow your hand for a moment?"

Tearing his eyes off of Harper, Keith raised his eyebrows and blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Beka gave him a little smile. "I need to make a point and to do that, I need to borrow your hand."

Confused, but willing to cooperate, he stretched out his hand. 

Beka took it and held it up for Harper to see. "Okay, Harper. Now listen closely. You think that Keith just came back from the dead, don't you? And you think he's some weird ghost stuck in his old body, right?"

Harper didn't answer, only stared at her. Slowly, he shrugged. Thinking he hadn't understood, Keith was about to explain or clarify Beka's point, but Beka waved it off. 

"He understands perfectly, Keith."

Staring from one to the other, Keith finally nodded. Beka turned her attention back to Harper. 

"Alright, now I want you to touch his hand."

Frowning at her, Harper stretched out a shaking hand and lightly touched Keith's palm before he recoiled his fingers. Swallowing, he stared at Beka. 

"His hand's warm." He mumbled.

Beka nodded and smiled. "Yeah. And what does a corpse feel like?"

"Cold." The answer was short and quick. It wasn't something that required a lot of thought from earthers.

"That's right. Therefore, Keith didn't die, Keith isn't a breathing corpse, Keith is himself. His mind just left for a little bit, and then came back. It's as simple as that."

Beka let go of Keith's hand. 

Harper was staring at Keith with that piercing, uncomfortable stare. As the last flickers of fear drained from him, his gaze was filled with curiousity. 

Beka smiled when she saw the change. He had stopped shaking and the color had slowly seeped back into his face. 

Keith leaned down a little so he was Harper's height. Seeing the curiousity, he smiled at him gently. 

"If you're interested, we have a few hours to kill here and I could tell you more about cerebral technology. I did quite a bit of research before I got mine done and I know much more about them than anybody is supposed to."

He kept his voice low and even and his smile was gently but not too open and phoney. He was picking up little hints from Beka. 

It reminded me how much my captain had learned and changed in the past two years. At the beginning, she was as rough and loud with Harper as she was with anybody else, but know, she could easily cut through his fear and delusions with just the right words and gestures and smiles. 

Harper slowly shrugged, then saw Beka raise her eyebrows, and he quickly changed his shrug into a nod. 

Looking at the floor, Harper mumbled a reply and refused to meet Keith's gaze. 

Keith leaned forward. "I beg your pardon?" he asked quietly.

Licking his lips and glancing at Beka, who nodded at him, Harper looked up and fought within himself to keep that gaze. 

"I said that I'd be real glad if you'd tell me stuff about your disk thing."

Keith smiled. "Well, if nobody would have told me you were an engineer, now there would be no doubt in my mind. Only engineers would be excited about listening to hours of cerebral technology. But don't tell me I didn't warn you about the potential boredom."

Harper smiled at him and relaxed slightly. "Don't worry, sir, I never get bored from techno babble. Unlike some people." He gave Beka a sideways glance. 

Beka laughed at him and wapped him over the back of the head. Jerking her head towards the kitchen, she said they could sit in there and Harper could grab them both a beer if Keith wanted. 

Watching them walk out of the cockpit towards the kitchen, Beka leaned against the console and smiled. She could hear Harper asking Keith how he had managed to stick a disk to his neck and make it stay there. She heard Keith's laughter fly down the corridor. 

Rev came up beside her as she stood there, smiling. She glanced at him. 

"He's slowly learning, Rev." she said. 

Rev nodded and smiled. "It'll take some more time, but he's slowly getting there."

"In a few months, he could talk to the Vedran Empress without running away. I swear."

Rev chuckled. "I wouldn't take it that far, Rebecca."

Beka scowled at him but then laughed. "You be quiet. You just watch, my dear reverend. You just watch."


	33. Chapter 33

The Diaries Chapter 33 

Author's Ramble: Sorry for the long wait guys. I live about two hours away from the university, so I always get home at about seven at night and I'm too tired to write, but I'm doing my best. However, you'll be glad to know that I'm almost done chapter 34, so if you come back and look tomorrow night, it'll be here. I promise. 

On the other hand, thank you for all the awesome reviews you guys always give me. They really make my day better after spending two hours in a cramped bus and swearing at transit's unpunctuality. Now I'm stop rambling and let you guys read. Hope you enjoy!!

Database Records Archive: 81 (10085)

Specific Time: A week after new year and two weeks after our Ruben run

Beka was sitting at the table in the kitchen, painstakingly going over our finances on a flexi. From time to time, she'd look at another flexi where she had punched in the amount of money Keith had given us yesterday. She'd take some of that money away and add it into a loan we had to pay off, debts we had to repay, food we had to buy, medications we had to stock up on and other smaller essentials, such as Rev's retreats, new shoes for Harper and shampoo for her. 

She was grumbling and swearing to herself as she did it. The money would have to be stretched thin and she wouldn't be able to afford the box of CD's she'd ordered a few weeks ago. 

Harper quietly wandered into the kitchen and sat down on a chair beside her. Reaching over, he opened the fridge and pulled out a can of beer. 

Without looking up, Beka raised an eyebrow. "That better be a can of Sparky you're pulling out or I'll kill you myself. I don't know how many damn times I have to tell you, but the vitamins I shove down your throat every morning don't have a bug's chance in hell of doing anything useful when they're floating around in alcohol."

Sticking his tongue out at her, he put the can back and took out a can of Sparky instead. 

Popping the lid open, he took a sip and shut the fridge. Leaning on the table, he quietly watched her typing around, running frustrated hands through her hair and sighing and swearing. 

He didn't say anything for a while, but when he started shifting around, Beka glanced at him. 

"What?"

He stared at the table and didn't respond. Usually, he'd mumble a reply or come right out and say it, but not this time. He kept looking at the table and shifting around until Beka swore and dropped the flexi onto the table. 

"What? Come on, spit it out already. I'm damn busy here, Harper."

He looked up and finally met her eyes. "I want a port, boss."

Beka closed her eyes, sighed and swore. "Harper, we've been over this a million times in the past two weeks. I said no the first time you asked, I said no the second time, and I'm saying no now. And if you ask me in two days, two years or two decades, I'll still say no, so quit bugging me about it and let it go!" Throwing up her hands, she scowled. "I mean, don't you have eyes in your head? I'm sitting here, desperately trying to see if I can squeeze two thrones out of our meager little pile of money so we can afford to buy food to feed ourselves in the next month, and you're asking me about a damn port? Are you out of your mind? I mean, for gods sake, you're an earther, Harper. You out of all people should know when we can't afford something. Now, I'm damn serious about it, drop it and shut up about it. I'm sick and tired of hearing about it and your whining really doesn't help make our debts go away."

With that, she picked up the flexi and started punching around on it, her anger evident in the tight clench of her jaw and the fury with which she was punching buttons. 

Harper hadn't moved while she'd yelled at him. He'd kept his eyes on the table and hadn't said a word. He gave a tiny nod. 

"Okay, boss. I won't ask anymore. I promise." He mumbled, before getting up and slowly shuffling towards the door. I could tell that Beka's harsh words had hurt him, but he wasn't letting her see that. 

He was nearly at the door, when Beka glanced up and watched him leave. Biting her lip, she swore quietly and dropped the flexi. 

"Harper, come back. Please. I didn't mean that."

Harper stopped but didn't turn around. "Yeah, you did, boss. And you're right. It was stupid of me to ask and I'll stop bugging you about it."

Beka sighed and ran a hand through her hair. I've told her a million times to stop doing that. It'll make her go bald by the time she's forty.

"No, Harper, I didn't have any right to yell like that. I'm sorry. Please come back and sit down and just listen for a minute."

Biting his lip, he decided that he didn't have anything to lose, so he turned around and sat back down. 

Putting her elbows on the table and clasping her hands, she looked at him. 

"Shorty, look. I know you're upset about it, and I'm upset about it too. I know that you've never asked me for much, and that you're asking for this now and I've always said that I'd give you whatever you ask for, but this time, I really can't." she swallowed hard, staring at the table. "And it kills me, Seamus. It really does. The first time in more than a year that you ask me for something, and I can't give it to you. It kills me." Clearing her throat, she crossed her arms and leaned towards him. 

"But before we drop this, let me explain why I said no and why I'll say no until the end of time. It's not just because of the money, but a large part of it is. I mean, Harper, it's one thing to ask for twenty thrones to pay for entering a surfing competition, and it's another to ask for 15,000 thrones to pay for a cerebral implant. I mean, I've never even seen that much money, never mind had it on hand to flaunt around and throw your way. It's not only that. The most part of it is that I'm scared."

Harper frowned. "Scared of what?"

She sighed and closed her eyes. "Scared of the operation and you maybe not living through it. Think of it logically, Harper. The operation's damn dangerous and there's a high chance that your body will reject the implant and kill you while it tries to fight the implant, and the recovery time for it is painful and long. Not to even talk about using the actual port. Every time somebody uses it, they take a gamble. It's painful and damn dangerous, and Harper, no matter how you look at it, you don't have the kind of healthy body that could fight through the operation, the recovery and actually using the port." She looked at him and reached over and gently squeezed his hand. "I don't want to lose you, Seamus. That's why this scares me and that's why I'm hoping you'll forget about it. I know you really want this, and it kills me that I can't and won't give it to you, but I won't risk your life for a little toy that you can play around with."

Harper's face fell as he heard her words, but he fought to keep his emotions hidden. 

But when Beka looked at him with sadness clouding her eyes, he nearly broke down and had to stifle a sob. 

"I know, boss, but it's just, well…Keith said that with a port you can upload all kinds of stuff into your mind and you can know about everything and be all smart, and well, I was just thinking that if I knew everything, then nobody would be able to tell I'm from earth and I've never gone to school and that I'm a freak and an idiot."

"No! Harper!" Beka shook her head and reached over and held his chin between her hands. "Seamus, listen to me. You're not a freak or an idiot. It's not your fault you never went to school, but look at you now. You're an engineer and you know more about machines than some people who've gone to school their entire lives. You don't need a port to fit in, Harper. People will accept you the way you are or they won't. But the people who choose not to like you, you don't need those people, Harper." She swallowed hard. "There are people out there who love you just the way you are, Seamus Harper. I should know. I'm one of them."

Harper stared at her. Giving her a watery smile, he reached up and squeezed the hand with which she was still holding his chin. 

"Thank you, Beka." He whispered. Standing up, he took a deep breath and looked around himself. 

"Well, I still say it would be cool to know everything."

Beka glanced up at him and smiled. "Yeah, but you don't need to know everything. Your brain isn't big enough."

Harper stuck his tongue out at her. "And I love you too, boss."

Beka laughed and picked up the flexi. "Go to bed, shorty. And unless you exchange bodies with a heavy gravity worlder and we win the Daxus Prime super lottery, forget about the port. It's for your own good, Seamus."

Nodding, he shuffled out of the kitchen, still disappointed, but not as crushed as he had been earlier. 

Database Records Archive: 82 (10085)

Specific Time: A month later

I was docked in Quartius Station. I have to say, I truly love this station. Out of the millions of different docking stations I see every year during our runs, there are only a few that are my favourites, such as this one. Wide, comfortable berths with cushioned landing pads, nicely tiled floors surrounding me and nice bright lights which stayed on at all hours of the day and night. Even the docking patrol didn't spit when they talked or leered at Beka when she walked by. I love this station. 

Of course, the reason we were here wasn't as thrilling as I had hoped it would be. Beka had flown us over here when she'd caught wind that there was a rich guy here somewhere who needed to have some expensive equipment flown over to Infinity in time for the tourist season. Right away, she'd nearly torn my control out trying to get us here fast enough. 

While she was off doing that and Rev had stayed behind on me to read and watch me, Harper had gone off to go surfing at the beach. We still couldn't afford to buy him a surfboard, but he was content renting one at a rent shop. We didn't have the money to rent one either, but Harper had reassured Beka that he'd take care of that. 

Beka, Rev and I all shuddered as to what he was thinking of doing, but Beka said that as long as it didn't land him in jail with a heavy bail hanging over his head, she didn't care. 

Database Records Archive: 83 (10085)

Specific Time: 3 hours later

Rev glanced up as he sat in the kitchen, running over some of my diagnostic results on my environmental system. 

"Is everything alright, Maru?"

No, everything is not alright, but thank you for asking, Rev. 

Harper was walking towards me, seeming completely furious. I adjusted my external sensors and zoomed in closer. He was pale and shaking from anger and from the way he was walking, he was obviously very pissed off. There was a bruise on his cheek, a small scratch on the back of his neck and his hands were bleeding badly. 

But that wasn't what disturbed me the most. It was his eyes. They were glittering with that dangerous glint of fury and hate which I had never seen in anybody else. 

He ran the last few feet up to my airlock and punched it open. I quickly opened it, fearing that he'd kick it down if I didn't get it open quickly enough. Throwing one last blazing look over his shoulder, he hopped up and slammed the airlock shut behind him. 

By this time, Rev had realized something had happened, and he'd dropped the data flexis on the table and had carefully come up the corridor towards the airlock to see what was going on. 

As soon as he spied Harper standing in front of the airlock, shaking in anger and hugging himself with his bleeding hands, he ran up to him, immediately concerned. 

"Master Harper! Are you alright?"

Harper gave him a scathing look and glared at him. "Do I fucking look okay?" He snarled. 

Rev stopped walking and raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the surprise from showing on his face. When you're a magog, that's not hard. He quickly looked Harper up and down and frowned at his harsh breathing and pent up anger, but he narrowed his eyes and concern flooded his eyes when he saw the bleed seeping onto Harper's shirt from his hands. 

"Your hands, Master Harper! They're bleeding. Here, let me see them quickly." Rev reached out and was about to touch Harper's arm, but Harper yanked his arm out of reach and backed up, snarling at him. 

"Don't fucking touch me, magog."

Rev immediately stopped moving towards him and slowly held up both his hands and backed up a few steps. 

Harper backed himself up until he was standing against my wall, hunched over, hissing through his clenched teeth, angry and hurt. 

Glaring at Rev, he was plainly letting Rev see that if Rev came one step closer, Harper would slit his throat open in the blink of an eye. 

Knowing that Harper was close to falling into hysterics, Rev slowly turned and walked back to the kitchen, giving Harper some space. Rev knew that once those paranoid fits of hysteria took hold of him, there would be no reaching him for possibly hours, and with Beka not due to be back for another two hours, that could make things difficult. When something upset Harper, he lost his grip on the present and lashed out at his old fears, in this case, a magog. 

Quickly hurrying into the kitchen, Rev grabbed the first aid kit off the hook beside the fridge and went back to Harper.

Sitting on the floor infront of the cowering, angry and hurt human, Rev opened the kit and started opening packages of disinfecting patches and bandages. Putting them on top of the kit, Rev slid the kit over to Harper. 

Harper had watched the preparations with wary, cautious eyes. From time to time, he'd clench his jaw and bite his lips when the pain from his hands became too much to bear. The blood from his hands had soaked his shirt and had started dripping onto the floor, but Harper didn't take his eyes off Rev. 

Once the kit had slid across the floor and was inches away from Harper, he leaned down and tried to pull the kit over to him more, but when the edge of the plastic kit touched a cut on his hand, he hissed in pain, swore and yanked his hand back. 

Shuffling forwards, he picked up one of the disinfectant patches, but when he tried to press it onto one of his hands, the pain made him drop it on the floor. Glaring at the kit, he went back to hugging his hands to himself, quietly rocking back and forth, hissing from pain and anger. 

Rev had watched all of this without moving. When he saw that Harper couldn't do it by himself—which he and I had both known from the beginning—he moved a little closer. 

"Is it alright if I bandage up your hands, Master Harper?"

Harper glared at him and scowled in answer. He shrugged. 

Rev nodded. "Tell me when you're sure." I had to smother a smile.

Harper rolled his eyes and glared. "You always have to be so damn smart, don't you?" When Rev simply smiled at that, Harper scowled at him. "Well do I's look like I can do it by myselves?"

Trying to smother a smile, Rev got up and went over to him. Sitting down in front of him, Rev gently took Harper's hands into his own and looked them over. He sighed and frowned at them. 

"What in the world did you do to your hands? Some of these cuts are utterly horrid."

Harper glared and looked like he was going to snatch his hands back, but didn't. "When I said you can bandage up my damn hands, I didn't say I'd answer any of your dumb questions, did I? Just fix my damn hands or leave me alone."

Rev stopped and glanced up at him. Looking back down, Rev busied himself with picking up patches of disinfectant and gently dabbing Harper's hands with them. 

"Just for the record, Master Harper, if you want someone to do you a favor, it would serve you better not to be quite so snarky with them."

Harper scowled at him, but that scowl disappeared when he realized that he had really hurt Rev's feelings. 

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Rev. I ain't meant it. I'm only pissed and my damn hands hurt. Sorry."

Rev smiled and stopped wiping when a hiss of pain escaped Harper's lips and he nearly yanked his hands out of Rev's light grasp. When Harper swallowed and mumbled that he could keep on going, Rev continued. 

They fell into a heavy but comfortable silence while Harper watched Rev gently cleaning and bandaging up his hands. 

When he was done, Rev turned to the med kit and started putting things away. Pushing himself up, he was about to walk back into the kitchen, but then he paused when he saw Harper was having difficulty standing up without putting any pressure on his hands. 

Holding out a hand, he smiled down at him. Harper glanced up and without a word offered Rev his arm, who took it and lightly hauled him off the floor. 

"Thanks, my furry buddy." Harper mumbled as he followed him into the kitchen. 

Rev chuckled. "Not a problem, my skinny mudfoot friend."

Harper smiled and stuck his tongue out at the back of Rev's head. 

Reaching the kitchen, Harper slumped into a chair while Rev went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer for Harper. 

Harper stared from the beer to Rev. Rev put his finger to his lips. "Don't you dare tell Rebecca, or I'll have you for dinner tomorrow night."

Harper laughed, but eyed Rev warily as the latter went around the table and sat down. It's never quite so funny when a magog says that. 

While Harper opened his beer and threw the lid into the sink, Rev clasped his hands on the table and looked at him quietly, waiting for him to speak. Harper glanced at him over the rim of the bottle. 

"What?"

Rev pointed at his hands. "Now that you've had the chance to calm down and I've made sure you won't bleed to death in the next few minutes, you have a lot of explaining to do."

When Harper's expression darkened and a scowl started forming on his face, Rev held up his hand. 

"Master Harper, I am not asking for you to tell me anything you don't want to. All I'm asking for is for you to tell me anything you wish to inform me of. Nothing more, nothing less. It's that simple." He looked at him. "Besides, when a close friend of mine comes home extremely upset, angry and hurt, I feel it a necessity to know why so I can go out and exact some form of revenge if need be."

Harper smiled, some of his anger and attitude fading. "Rev, your divine don't believe in revenge."

Rev smiled and shrugged. "He doesn't believe in eating fish either or flying around in star ships. I've broken many of his rules already. What's one more? Besides, if it is broken in the name of friendship, it can always be justified."

Harper let his gaze drop onto the table. A silence fell between them during which Rev quietly looked at him and Harper sipped his beer. 

"It's not a big deal. I just went to the damn renting shop and went in. I was gonna just look around and then steal a board, go boarding and bring it back—"

When Rev raised his eyebrows, Harper scowled at him. "Don't give me any of your damn preaching, Rev. I was going to bring it back. But anyway, before I took a board, this guy and girl come up to me. For no damn reason—I mean, I didn't even look at the chick—they start cussing me out and yelling at me and making fun of me. They said they could smell the mudfoot stench from outside the door and they said it smelt so bad and reeked of death that they just had to come and take a look. Said they'd never seen an actual piece of mudfoot trash before. Said they were fascinated or something and that we stink and look as bad as we're supposed to. Kept on saying shit like that. So I get mad, tell them to leave me alone, when the chick just laughs and says that I should watch what I say while I'm on this planet. So I asks her why and she says that mudfeet ain't allowed on classy planets like these. Then she leans in real close and whispers that we're too dirty to be allowed on it. Says they like to keep the trash locked up in trashcans on their own planets, where they belong. So then I get mad and start cussing them out, calling the chick a whore and the guy some other names which I really can't repeat, so the guy slugs me across the face and I fall down. My damn knife had dropped out of my pants when I'd fallen and it was too far away to grab, but then I looks around and I sees an empty beer bottle lying on the floor. So I grab it and slug the guy across the head with it and the bottle breaks and the guy falls down. So I turn around and I'm about to nail the girl too, but she screams, says something about her not having expected dirty things to be so vicious and she runs out of the store. Then the shop owner comes over with a gun and tells me to drop the bottle or he'll call the cops. And I knew that we couldn't afford the bail and breaking out of prison is so damn time consuming, so I kick the guy on the ground and hit the other owner guy over the head with the bottle and the whole thing shatters and I guess the pieces cut my hands up real bad. So then both of the guys are on the ground and I kick 'em both in the head real good so they can't get up before I'm out of there, you know, so the cops can't catch me and then I runs back here."

With that, he leaned back and went back to drinking his beer, his eyes sparking with fury. When he saw Rev looking at him and obviously not knowing whether to yell at him or congratulate, him, Harper raised a finger and pointed it at him.

"And don't you dare start saying that they ain't deserved it. I didn't start nothing, they did. I just finished things."

Rev sighed. "But, Master Harper, there's a big difference between defending yourself with words and defending yourself with unnecessary violence—"

Harper slammed his beer bottle on to the table, his eyes clouding over with anger and his jaw clenched. "Words?! Rev, words? What words?" he snarled, his voice rising in anger. "What the hell can you say? Huh? You can't say that you're better than them, cause you're not. You can't say that they ain't right, cause they are. And you can't tell them to leave you alone, cause you've got the laws of entire damn planet against you. Words don't mean shit, Rev, and you know it. The only way people will listen to you is if you beat their sorry little skulls in."

Rev looked helpless and glanced up at my ceiling, as if I could help him. When I could only offer him my comforting and apologetic silence, he bit the bullet and tried again. 

"But, Master Harper, you could have just walked away from the situation—"

"Walk away?!" Harper stared at him, seeming completely incredulous. "You got anymore dumb shit you want to spew out, Rev? Walk away? What the hell does walking away do other than give them more reasons to make fun of you and stab you in the back when you're not looking?"

"But—"

"Don't 'but' me, Rev! You know as well as I do that talking and ignoring it doesn't do anything. They still say things, they still laugh, and they always will. Unless you shut them up the only way they understand, you're going to be laughed at and made fun of for the rest of your life, and I won't stand for it. Don't pretend you don't understand me, Rev. People all over this universe hate you just as much as they hate me. Some more and some less, it don't matter. And what do you do about it, huh? You sit here on your ass and do nothing. You sit here and sulk everytime we land on a planet where there aren't other scum crawling around where you and I blend in like two rats in a dumpster. You don't even show your face outside. You're a damn coward, Rev."

That really riled Rev up. He sat up straight and his eyes sparked. It was the closest I had ever seen Rev to getting angry.

"I am not a coward!"

Harper sneered at him. "Sure."

Rev slammed his fist on the table. Harper jumped but kept his gaze. 

"Let me tell you something, Seamus Harper. Yes, you're right. I know very well what you're talking about. There's countless planets out there where you and I aren't allowed. There are countless people out there who fear us, hate us and despise us and would wish nothing more than to see us and the rest of our kinds die. I tried fighting them. Oh, I did. When I was younger and I had just turned to the Way, I would resort to snarling and swiping at people who wouldn't leave me be. But then I learned that violence wasn't part of the Way, and I forced myself to refrain from it. So I decided to try and use words or ignorance to try and defend myself, but I found these futile. That was when I realized that I shouldn't be trying so hard to defend myself. Why you ask? Well, I ask you the same thing. Why do you bother to defend yourself so bitterly against ignorant, stupid people who can only feel good about themselves when they are making somebody else's life miserable? Why bother trying to make these people try to see the error of their ways? I had no wish to associate with these people anyway, and I had no desire to waste my time trying to change their ways. Making my life miserable—and yours—keeps them happy and feeling superior and important. So I decided to keep to myself and not give them the chance. You can fight them all you want, Master Harper, but you'll never win. There's too many of them and they'll never try to understand or listen as long as there are others around them who are chanting and jeering with them. It's pointless and makes one miserable so I suggest you give up."

Harper glared, but his eyes had lost that glimmer of hatred. "You want me to just give up and hide in here for the rest of my life like you do?"

Rev shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant. Harper, you and I both know that there are planets out there—very few mind you, but they exist—where we are welcomed with open arms and are accepted. If you hadn't noticed, Beka rarely accepts runs where they will take us to places where we are not allowed. She knows about the prejudist and hateful people who await us on those planets and she is so angered by them that she simply stays clear of them."

When Harper frowned, Rev thought for a moment. 

"You remember that run we were going to do to Iridentia when Mr. De Winters asked us to do one more run for him? Beka refused, even though we needed the money. The border patrol on Iridentia is vicious and they hate mudfeet nearly more than they do magog. She wanted to spare us that, so she passed by the run and used the money she was going to use for CD's to buy us more medical supplies."

When Rev saw that Harper was just glaring miserably at the table in front of him, Rev reached over and gently squeezed his hand. 

"Beka is doing everything she can do make us feel more comfortable in our skins. Asides from there being many planets, such as Infinity—you love Infinity—and other places like Topenga Drift and Daxus Prime where we can roam around freely and you can surf and do whatever you want to do without being bothered, there are also lots of other backwater worlds out there where we blend in easily. Just think of Ruben and most drifts we pass by. Those are the places where the rest of our kinds live. The outcasts of society and the people whom the rich and influential in the universe had decided to pick as the unworthy and despised. You never have any problems in those places, do you?"

Harper glowered in silence for a while, before he scowled and looked up.

"It's not damn fair, Rev! Nobody else has to pick and choose what places they can go depending on whether people will hate you there or not. Besides, I wanted to surf on that damn beach!"

Rev didn't answer. As they sat there, Harper shifted around, then swore viciously and threw his bottle across the room. It hit the wall and shattered loudly as the shards of glass rained onto the floor. 

Harper crossed his arms and pierced hateful holes into the table with his eyes. Rev had followed the path of the flying bottle with his eyes and quietly stared at the broken pieces on the floor. 

He sighed quietly. "My sentiments exactly." He whispered. 


	34. Chapter 34

The Diaries 

Chapter 34

Author's Ramble: (_Raven hangs her head in shame_) I'm so sorry this is so late, people! My computer crashed big time and I had to rebuild it from scratch basically. Not a fun process. However, at the same time, I kept on scribbling away at this story and I have four, yes, four new chapters for you people. There, you see? Now you can't be mad anymore. On another note, I don't want to spoil anything, but the port we've all been waiting for is about to arrive…(_hint, hint, nudge, nudge_) J

Hee…hee…anyway, tell me if you like it or hate it people, it's all up to you, and as usual, I live to hear your words. Have fun!!

Database Records Archive: 84 (10085)

Specific Time: Three weeks later

Our meeting wasn't going well. Our client was a snobby, uptight man who sniffed when he talked and refused the glass of wine Beka offered him, saying that he wasn't sure the glass met with his degree of cleanliness. 

Rev had excused himself early on, since his presence had irritated the man. 

Harper was sitting at the kitchen table, clenching his jaw so hard that I was sure he'd break it if he didn't stop. 

While Beka struggled to keep the smile on her face and keep her voice level and polite, the man—Mr.Toth or whatever the hell it was—was looking bored. 

He yawned as Beka once more went over the contract details. 

Giving her a tight smile, he clasped his hands and leaned back in his chair. 

"In all due to respect, Ms.Valentine, we've been over this thing about a hundred times, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it. Either sign it or I'm leaving."

Beka's tight smile nearly wavered, but she swallowed hard and tried to make her point again—which she had been trying to make about fifty times in the past ten minutes.

"Mr.Toth, I understand that to you the contract looks fine and dandy, but to me, it has some minor problems. You see, this run is quite a long one and will take up most of our time in the next two weeks. I was planning on spending the next two weeks sitting somewhere and getting my ship's worn systems fixed and fuelling her up. If you want us to take this run—which we'd love to—then I'll just need to get a bit of our payment upfront so I can fuel my ship up and get enough supplies to last us for the two weeks." Beka forced a little laugh. "A starved crew can't fly your cargo, Mr.Toth."

Mr.Toth blinked as he stared at her, completely unmoved by her words. 

"Ms.Valentine, we've been over this a million times and I've told you, I don't pay anybody a single throne until my cargo's been delivered. Until then, you'll just have to make ends meet." He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. "Unless, of course, you've reconsidered and decided that you don't need or want this run." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. Either you sit tight and wait for your payment like good little haulers, or you find another run. It's your choice."

Beka stared at him and tried to rake her mind for other arguments, but came up blank. Sighing, she fell back against her chair, frustrated and completely at the end of her rope. She slowly closed her eyes and wearily rubbed her temples with her fingers.

Harper had quietly sat there, trying to restrain from yelling at the guy or throwing his empty sparky can at him. 

He hadn't said a word the entire time that Beka had argued and Mr.Toth had yawned and blinked his way through it. While the captain's arguing, everybody else knew enough to keep their mouths shut and just watch. 

Harper glanced at Beka, and saw from her slumped form and the dejected look on her face that she had given up. He knew that we needed this run. Badly. We didn't have any money and we had FTA taxes to pay. He also knew that sweet talking the little bastard sitting across from him wouldn't do anything. 

So then Harper—bless his heart and his golden intentions—decided to take matters into his own hands. Where spacer strategies failed, earther ones started. 

Leaning forward and clearing his throat, he gave Mr.Toth a wide grin. 

"Well, Mr.Toth, if you ain't willing to pay us upfront out of the goodness of your own heart—which I'm sure you have lots of—then maybe I can offer you a little proposition."

Mr.Toth raised his eyebrows and leaned slightly forward. 

"I'm listening."

Beka had picked up her glass of water and was quietly sipping it, letting Harper do his thing. She didn't have anymore ideas. 

Harper grinned and leaned even more towards him. "Well, it's a really simple proposition really. I'll make you a deal. I'll sleep with you, then you'll pay us a little bit upfront." Harper grinned at him. "And don't worry. I know how to make it worth your while."

Beka's eyes widened and she dropped her glass. It fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. Water sprayed everywhere. 

Mr.Toth was staring at Harper as if he had grown three heads. It was hard to tell if he looked more surprised than disgusted, or vice versa. 

I, myself, had nearly shorted out my AG field generator when I heard what Harper had said. 

Mr.Toth gaped at Harper and struggled to find his voice. "Did you just make me a prostitution proposition?" he asked, his voice a faint whisper. 

Harper smiled. "Well, no, not really. It's more of a—well, making giving up your money more pleasant. That's all."

Beka was staring at the table as if she wished it would somehow open up and swallow her. 

Mr.Toth turned and stared at Beka. She couldn't and wouldn't meet his gaze. She sat in her chair, frozen and stunned. 

All of a sudden, Mr.Toth seemed to snap out of his daze, unlike my captain. 

"What kind of a sick, perverted engineer do you have, Ms.Valentine?" he yelled, completely outraged. Pushing himself up so fast that his chair fell over, he snatched his contract up from the table and deleted Beka's name off the list of potential haulers. 

Putting it into his pocket and slowly backing out of the kitchen, he was still sputtering. 

"Outrageous! Completely and utterly outrageous! How in the world—on a _cargo hauler_—I mean, to think that one only has to deal with such things in back alleys on Ruben! Completely and utterly outrageous!" He was still yelling and sputtering, his eyes so wide that I wondered how they didn't fall out of his head. Backing out of the kitchen until his back hit the wall, he leapt back, turned around and nearly ran for the airlock, screaming over his shoulder the whole way. 

"I'm pressing charges! _Charges_! Ms.Valentine, do you hear me? I'm pressing _charges_! I mean, to think that—I'm pressing charges! Right now! Don't try to make a case out of it, because you're broke and I've got money, _lots_ of it, none of which your little whore is getting! Outrageous!" Reaching the airlock, he punched it open and nearly fell out into the docking station. Turning back to the open airlock, he stared up at it.

"I'm pressing _charges_!" he yelled up, his voice carrying down my corridor with stunning clarity. 

With that, he turned around and ran the other way, still muttering to himself and shaking his head. 

Database Records Archive: 85 (10085)

Specific Time: Ten minutes later

Beka had sat frozen in her chair, unable to move or think for the past ten minutes. Staring at the table as if wishing it would answer a pressing question for her, she was hardly remembering to breath. Her eyes wide and stunned and her face pale, she looked more shocked than Mr.Toth had been. 

Harper sat beside her, looking between her and the door and back again. After shifting around and waiting for her to say something, he finally sighed and shrugged. Pushing himself up, he was about to walk out of the kitchen, when Beka recovered. Or at least, partially.

Her face flooding with color and her eyes sparking with hot anger, she jerked her head around and glared at him. 

"May I ask what the hell you just suggested to Mr.Toth, Harper?" she cried, completely furious.

Harper's eyebrows flew up and his eyes clouded with confusion. Looking between the door and her enraged face, he looked like he was going to make a run for it, but then decided that she could beat him to it and it would be safer for him in the long run to stay here. 

He shrugged slightly. He had no idea what she was getting so riled up about. 

"I made him a business proposition."

Beka clenched her jaw and briefly closed her eyes. "A business proposition? You call that a business proposition?! That wasn't a damn business proposition! It was a flat out prostitution offer!"

Harper stared at her, obviously still not understanding. He shrugged slightly. 

"Yeah, so?"

If Beka could have looked more stunned and furious, she would have burnt up like a piece of plastic in my engines. 

"What the hell do you mean, _so_?" she snapped. 

Harper blinked. "What I mean is that I don't get what the big deal is here, boss and I don't get it why you's getting all pissed off about this. I tried to fix a problem you had, and I failed. Big deal."

Beka stared at him as if he had just said he'd sold me. "Big deal? Is that what you just said? Big deal? You don't think this is a big deal, Seamus Harper?"

"No, not really." He mumbled. He still didn't understand, but he was starting to get extremely nervous from his captain's rage. 

Beka took a deep breath, tried to collect herself, but then failed and snapped. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Mr.Toth was a respectable businessman and you made a prostitution suggestion to him? I mean, do you not think?! And not only that, but you successfully fucked over our contract and lost us this run. And do you know what else? What's the best part? He'll go around now spreading the news that Captain Valentine's enginner is a whore and you should stay out of her way. I mean, what the hell!! What's wrong with you?"

That upset Harper. Really upset him. Immediately, the nervous, cowering, confused look disappeared and it was replaced with that tough, don't-give-a-damn attitude. Settting his jaw, he glared down at Beka. 

"There ain't nothing wrong with me, Captain Valentine. If there's anything that's wrong here, it's you damn spacers! Always doing things the long and complicated way, smiling the whole time and having damn manners all the time. It never gets nothing done! It's annoying and stupid."

Beka glared. "And agreeing to screw clients gets something done? Huh? Does it?" she snarled right back. 

He clenched his jaw, his eyes sparking. "You know what, Captain Valentine?"

"What?" she spat out from between clenched teeth. 

He glared. "Fuck you. I mean it. Fuck you. Fuck you and the rest of your damn kind! Always running around following damn rules that you make up and as soon as someone else accidently breaks them cause they don't know any better, then you get all pissed off and act like the fucking universe revolves around you. Well, it don't. You're dumber than us, more ignorant, and you don't understand how this universe works, so don't you dare go around pretending that you do!"

Beka stared at him, some of the fury having receeded from her eyes and having been replaced by shock. I'll admit, this time, Harper had gone a little too far. 

Standing up and pulling herself up to her full height which put her about a head above Harper, she crossed her arms. 

"Get out of my kitchen." She whispered. "Now."

Harper stood there, glaring at her for a second, before he quietly jerked his chin up, called her an extremely rude name under his breath and whirled around and stomped out of the kitchen. 

Beka stood there, staring after him. While she stood there, all the anger and shock drained out of her as quickly as they had come. 

Collapsing into her chair, she put her arms onto the table. Letting out a deep breath, she stared at the empty doorway. 

"Shit." She whispered to herself, before slowly letting her head fall onto her arms.

Database Records Archive: 86 (10085)

Specific Time: Two hours later

Harper was quietly making his way down the corridor towards Beka's quarters. He didn't make  a sound as he walked and he quietly sniffed the air to make sure Beka was in there. 

She was. Sitting on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, she was glaring darkly at the wall. She had put one of her CD's into the little CD player in the cockpit and connected the speakers to my com system. This way, the music reached her room, but was also blaring all over the ship. It drove Rev nuts, but he knew that Beka only did this when she was extremely upset, so he put up with it. 

Harper stopped before the doorway and shifted around, fidgeting. Torn between shoving all of his hesitations out of the way and going in, and turning around and saying screw it to the whole situation, he nervously stood there, chewing on his lower lip. 

Right after Beka had ordered him to leave the kitchen, he had gone into engineering and had hid behind the slipstream drive, where he always went. At first, he'd just glared at the engine and swore and complained about spacers to me. I quietly bore it and listened to him. It's what I'm there for. When he had talked himself hoarse and some of his anger had fizzled, he dug around in a hidden drawer he had made in the wall back there and pulled out a bottle of vodka. 

He sat there in the growing darkness for about an hour, quietly sipping from the bottle and glaring at the slipstream drive as if it would somehow fix this mess. 

During all of this, Rev had sat in command, dictating a letter to me which he then sent off to one of his Wayist friends. He had heard most of the argument and had frowned and glanced over his shoulder from time to time, but had kept out if, hoping that Beka and Harper would resolve it on their own. 

After he heard them yelling at each other and then heard Beka ordering Harper out of the kitchen and the latter's stomping down the corridor and hissed swearing, Rev clenched the railing in front of him and forced himself not to interfere. 

Still desperately hoping that they'd work it out, he didn't say anything to either of them. But, after an hour of having Beka's music blasting through me and making my pipes rattle and giving Rev a headache and having Harper hiding in engineering and getting drunk, Rev sighed and decided to do something about it. 

Going to engineering, he opened the door and quietly stood there for a while, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the strong stench of alcohol and grease in the room. 

Slowly walking over to the slipstream drive, he didn't even attempt to squish himself behind it, but instead, stayed where he was and quietly started talking. At first, Harper didn't listen and swore at him to go away, but when Rev just kept on talking, Harper gradually started paying attention. 

After lots of arguing and sighing, Rev had finally gotten Harper to understand the situation well enough to convince him to go and apologize to Beka and talk to her—

_"I don't care what you say, Rev. I ain't gonna go talk to her. I ain't did nothing wrong!"_

_"Harper, even if you might think you didn't do anything wrong, you did. True, you don't understand right now, but let Beka explain it to you—"_

_"None of this is my fault anyway."_

_"Master Harper, even though the Divine doesn't like blame to be applied to anyone, I feel I must bend the rules here, because the fact of the matter is, this misunderstanding is your fault. Now, before you fly off the handle and start yelling and swearing at me, please listen. You may swear at me all you wish afterwards, but first, please listen. What you said to Mr.Toth was a mistake. A mistake which upset Rebecca greatly and caused her to lash out at you in anger, but instead of making her explain to you why she was so angry or trying to sooth her anger, you responded with anger on your own. Not only was this your mistake to begin with—regardless whether you were aware of it being a mistake or not—you only aggravated the situation later and stepped over some lines when yelling at Beka. Please don't roll your eyes at me, Master Harper—yes, even though I can't see you, I can feel it—you are the one who has to take the first step here and go and speak with Rebecca."_

_"But she'll be all pissed at me, Rev. There ain't no point."_

_"True, she will probably be upset, but that doesn't mean that you can't make things better. Go and speak with her. Explain to her why you said what you said and then let her explain why you shouldn't have done that. Master Harper, as you have probably realized over the past few years, the only way people from different societies and backgrounds can get along is by communication."_

Shifting from one foot to the other and trying not to grimace from the pulsing beat vibrating through my corridors from Beka's lovely music, he finally set his jaw, took a deep breath and quietly stepped into Beka's quarters. 

Standing in the doorway, he didn't say a word as he fidgeted around, looking from his feet up to Beka's glaring, still form and then back down to his feet. 

Slowly, Beka turned her head and stared at him. The anger still quietly simmered in her eyes, but I could see something else underneath the anger. Disappointment. 

She wordlessly stared at him while he shifted around, uncomfortable from that constant, unwavering stare. 

Finally, Beka sighed and quietly asked me to turn off the music. I did. Rev let out a sigh of relief, rubbed his temples and mumbled a thank you to the Divine. 

Beka hadn't taken her eyes off of Harper. 

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice completely empty. 

Harper shrugged and forced himself to look at her.

Beka didn't even blink. "In that case, get lost until you know what you want."

From the way he gave the door a sideways glance, I knew he was seriously considering leaving, but then he bit his lip and decided that he had to take the first step here. 

Glancing at Beka, he swallowed. "I came here to apologize."

Beka quietly looked at him. From her eyes I could tell that she was willing to forgive Harper then and there because he had taken the first step so willingly, but she wasn't letting him off the hook so easily. 

"For what?" She kept her voice carefully controlled, making sure Harper couldn't detect that she had already forgiven him. 

He shifted around and stared at his feet. "For saying that to Mr.Toth. I ain't know why you got so upset over it, but whatever it was, it pissed you off, made a client mad and lost us a job that we needed. And it was all my fault. That's why I'm sorry."

Beka quietly nodded before moving over on her bed. "Come sit your ass down beside me, Seamus."

Shuffling soundlessly across the floor, he climbed up onto her bed and leaned against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest like hers. 

They both stared at the far wall of the room and the only sound was the quiet humming of my engines. 

"So you really don't get it, huh?" Beka asked quietly. 

Harper glanced at her and then shrugged. "Not really."

A sad smile flickered across her face. "It's not something that's uncommon on earth, is it?"

Harper shrugged again. "When you want something and you don't got money, food or clothes to give, then you give them something that won't put a dent into your life. It's easy, quick and gets you pretty much anything you want. Everybody does it. Even eleven year olds."

Suddenly I found myself understanding a lot more clearly why Harper had that casual attitude about sex and why he had more STD's than any living being I had ever come across. 

Beka sighed. "Harper, look. I understand that down there sex was a good trading chip, but up here, it isn't. When you need something and it doesn't look like you're going to get it, you try different ways to get it, and if none of those work, then you forget about it and look somewhere else. If Mr.Toth would have continued to refuse to pay us upfront, I would have told him to forget about it and I would have gone to look for someone else. It's that easy. You choose your bargaining chips, draw a line which you don't want to cross, and then you pick and choose your targets. If any of those targets require you to step over that line, throw your pride to hell and do something you don't want to, then it isn't worth it." She turned her head and looked at him, searching his face for any indication that he had understood her. 

He was staring at his knees, picking at a loose thread in his pants. 

"Pride don't get you nothing, boss. It ain't feed you, clothe you or let you live another day. Sure, you can have your pride, but you won't live to see tomorrow."

Beka sighed. "Seamus, pride isn't a bad thing. Pride isn't the same thing as being a snob and being uptight and all high and mighty. Pride means that you set some lines in your life with what you're comfortable doing and saying, and you don't make yourself step over them and you don't let anybody push you over them. That's what pride is. It's not a bad thing, especially when you can pick and choose the situations you want to do something in. It's easy to keep your pride intact and live."

Harper quietly mulled that over. It was quite a stretch for him, but after he thought it over, he finally sighed. 

"Okay, fine." He said quietly. 

Beka smiled. "You get it now?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Man, you spacers complicate everything. Life used to be simple."

He muttered. 

Beka gave him a sad smile. "Life is never simple, Seamus, no matter where and how you live it."

Database Records Archive: 87 (10088)

The next day we were contacted by Mr.Toth's attornies and two cops, who said they were here for the 3000 throne fine Harper had to pay or they'd stick him into jail for three weeks. 

When Beka demanded to know what he'd been charged with, the cop leered at her and told her it was public lewdness. 

Harper was all prepared to leap out of the airlock and make a run for it so Beka could fly away in peace and leave him, but Beka and Rev wouldn't hear of it. 

Not wanting Harper to sit in jail—to which he protested and claimed that he had never minded jail, especially tourist planet jails—and not even having a quarter of the money Mr.Toth was demanding, Beka decided to solve the situation her own way.

Leaping into the piloting chair, she revved up the engines and nearly tore the docking clamps to pieces and blew my thrusters to bits as we roared out of the docking station and hurled away from the planet at an insane speed. 

Although the police gliders pursued us for a while, they lost us in slipstream after about half an hour. 

That was the last time I had ever seen Omega IV. I had absolutely no desire to ever see it again. Waiting for us back there were hundreds of cargo company heads who turned up their noses at the sound of my captain's name and didn't want anything to do with us, and of course, an unpaid fine and a jail sentence for my engineer.

Beka and Rev never brought the incident up again. Except for the permanent public lewdness charge which sits on Harper's lengthy criminal record, the incident had all but been forgotten and I doubt Dylan and the rest of the crew will ever hear of it. 

Ever since then, Harper had been more careful about who he flirted with and the leering looks and lewd remarks he made at perfect strangers. Beka never minded if he chased after classy looking females, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and saying things which would undoubtly make Andromeda short out her AI network. As long as Harper left them alone before they sued him for sexual harrassment and as long as he stayed out of their angry boyfriednds/husbands/fathers/brother's way, Beka never minded. Harper now knew where the line was between harmless—if sometimes borderline horrendous—flirting and going way overboard with what he said and to whom he said it. 

Except for the occasional eye rolling and wap over the back of his head, Beka just laughed it off.


	35. Chapter 35

The Diaries 

Chapter 35

Database Records Archive: 88 (10085)

Specific Time: A month and two days later

Harper quietly crept up to Beka, who was sitting at the console in the cockpit, scrolling through last weeks mail call. It was full of friendly tax reminders from the FTA, a public warning over Spornox spreading around such and such a system and all ships and people should stay out of it, and the occasional letter for Rev. 

Beka was glaring darkly at the screen. "Pigs." She mumbled as she stared at the tax reminder. 

"Why the hell can't they leave cargo haulers alone? We never stick our noses into their damn business, so they shouldn't bother us. If they have to get their money from somewhere, they should go to Transgalactic or Quantum or the other big guys who have the damn money they want."

Swearing, she wearily leaned on the console and rubbed her temples. "You know, it's at times like these that I wished I drank."

Harper smiled. "No you don't, boss. Besides, if you drank, I'd have to kill you."

Beka laughed, but that laugh quickly fizzled. Staring at the screen, she mumbled another curse and then turned the screen off. 

Swinging around in her chair, she looked at Harper. "I'm guessing you haven't been standing there for ten minutes just to listen to me swear and complain."

Harper shrugged. "I don't mind it. Bitching about something is always a lot more satisfying if somebody's listening."

Beka gave him a smile, but it wavered quickly. She looked him up and down, trying not to look worried. The only times Harper never automatically came out and said what he came to say was when it was something big that was bothering him. 

"Come on, out with it."

Harper's smile faded and he looked down at his feet before licking his lips and looking back up at Beka. 

"I had an idea, boss."

Beka raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"About the port."

Immediately, Beka sighed and briefly closed her eyes. Muttering a curse, she clenched her hand into a fist and hit the console she had been leaning on.

"Damn it, Harper! I told you to forget about it. We don't have the money and you don't have the immune system and neither of those will ever change. Why do you keep on doing this? Just forget about it and accept the fact that it'll never happen. Stop clinging to something that was never meant to happen."

Harper bit his lip, but that little spark in his eyes refused to fade. 

"Well, I know that, boss, but then I got a real good idea. You see, if I steal a port from somewhere then we won't have to pay for it and if Rev does the operation then we don't gotta pay for that either."

Beka's eyebrows flew up and she stared at Harper incredulously. "Harper, are you nuts? How the hell would you even get near a port, huh? And asides from that—Rev doing the operation? What are you, piss drunk? Rev hardly knows more about cerebral technology than I do, and besides that, it's a long and dangerous operation. There's a reason it costs so much, Harper."

When Harper's face fell and that spark faded slightly, Beka sighed heavily and stared at the console she was leaning on.

"Seamus, I'm sorry. I really am. I know how badly you want this, but I'm sorry. It just won't work. Unless a miracle happens and money starts growing on asteriods, it's not going to happen." She whispered. Reaching up, she gently ran a finger down his cheek. "I'm sorry. You know I am."

Harper gave her a sad smile and then shrugged. "It's okay, boss. It don't matter."

Struggling to keep that smile on his face, he turned around and quietly walked out of the cockpit. 

Watching him leave, Beka curled up her hand again and slammed it onto the console, angry at herself and the damn situation. 

Database Records Archive: 89 (10085)

Specific Time: Two weeks later

We weren't doing well. We weren't doing well at all. A week ago, an FTA official had contacted us and had told us with a strained smile that we were way overdue with our payments. Beka had given him a big smile and told him that she'd sent it over a few days ago and that it must have gotten lost in the transfer network somewhere. The woman gave her a tight smile and told her that this was unlikely and unless Beka paid now, she would be forced to mortgage the Maru. Pretending not to have heard her, Beka quietly gave Harper and Rev a signal. At that signal, Rev typed in a command into my communications grid and Harper cut the connection, making it look like the connection was cut off by natural space interferences. 

As soon as she saw the static on the screen, Beka tore me around and we entered slipstream, intent on putting a lot of distance between us and those darling money grabbers. 

Ever since then, we had been going downhill. Desperately running from tax collectors and money debt collectors, we were running out of food and options. When Rev's supply of fish had nearly run out, Rev had pretended to have entered a time of fasting, and refused it when Beka said that they could sell my spare parts for more. As for Beka and Harper, they were eating out of cans, not particularily caring about what they were eating. Harper's vitamin injections had run out about two weeks ago. 

Beka was nearly at the end of her rope. Rev was slowly starving to death and Harper was starting to get dangerously thin and became prone to any small virus which penetrated my hull. Both her and Harper had taken to stealing food and clothes and other necessities from department drifts all over the place. Rev had just turned the other way and hadn't uttered a word of protest. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Finally, Beka put her foot down. Calling Harper into the engineering room, she started ripping the panelling off one of the walls. Behind it was an empty space filled with cables and pipes. Rummaging around behind them, she grumbled under her breath and shoved her shoulder into the wall, before she finally pulled out a dusty old device. 

Holding it up, she gave Harper a smile. He stared at the device in confusion. "What the hell is that?"

She grinned. "This little baby is going to save our lives."

Blowing the dust off it and coughing slightly, she stood up and brought it into the kitchen. Harper tagged along behind her, curious but as always, a little apprehensive. 

When Beka put it onto the table, Rev came wandering into the kitchen. His eyebrows flew up when he saw it. 

"You still have that?"

Beka nodded as she started fiddling around with the wires. "Yup. My dad always told me to keep it just in case."

I inwardly thanked the old captain for his words. 

Harper was staring at it. "Would somebody tell me what the hell this is?"

Beka smiled as Rev shifted around. Glancing at him, Beka rolled her eyes before going back to trying to make the device work. 

"My dear Seamus Harper, this little device is a credit chip replicator. You stick raw metal into one end, and it churns it around and turns it into actual credit chips. It's quite simple. You can use them just like you use real credit chips, and when you've charged a certain amount of money onto them, you destroy them and turn them into fresh ones. It's the quick and easy way to get you money that you don't have."

Harper stared at it with obvious admiration. "Wow. It really makes you fake chips?"

Beka nodded. "Yup. Nobody can tell the difference."

Rev had to put his two cents in. "It's still highly illegal and there is a slight difference between real chips and the fake ones."

Harper frowned at Rev. "What's the difference?"

Rev sighed and glanced at Beka. Beka waved a hand. "Only official people who would know this kind of junk would notice. The real chips have little cracks in their side, all a certain amount of distance apart. This little baby gives the chips cracks too, but makes them slightly closer together than the real ones. My dad could never figure out why and it really doesn't matter. Only somebody who knows what the distance between the cracks is supposed to be would notice."

Sitting down, she motioned for Harper to sit down beside her. "Alright, my darling engineer, sit down and try to fix our little precious. If all goes well, we could be eating gourmet meals by tomorrow night."

Grinning eagerly and his eyes sparkling, Harper sat down and pulled the device over to him. Frowning at it, he right away went to work tinkering around with it while Beka and Rev looked on, trying to hide the excited smiles on their faces. 

Database Records Archive: 90 (10085)

Specific Time: A week later

Our little 'precious' was doing wonders for my crew. We stocked our fridge full, filled Rev's aquarium, fuelled me up and fixed those broken AP valves which had been irritating me for weeks, and bought enough spare parts to last me a whole year, and last but not least, Beka bought Harper a surfboard. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when he saw it and he kept on running his hands along it, not believing it really existed. 

When he finally allowed himself to believe it, he spun around, his eyes sparkling and he jumped on Beka and gave her a huge hug. 

It nearly made me forget about the fact that that surfboard—and Harper's happiness—had both been bought by counterfeit credit chips. 

To make matters even more perfect, we had found another run to do. Granted, it was small and the shipment was just a bunch of computer chips, but still, it brought our engines into motion once more. 

Life was so perfect that I knew something would happen to ruin it. I guess Harper's apprehensiveness and constant pessimism must have begun to rub off on me. I just had this gut feeling that something would go wrong. Andromeda interupts to scoff that I don't have a gut anymore than she does, but I ignore her. 

I just knew that something would go wrong. When you're using illegal means to live your life, you can only fly so high and run so far before you fall. 

We were docked on Kendria Drift in one of those dingy docking stations where the berths are made out of old wooden planks, the lights are on permanently and shine a hazy dim orange all over the place and the docking patrol yawn and spit their way through their shifts and keep an eagle eye out for people who stay over their paid docking time. 

The first few of these things didn't bother me. I have gotten accustomed to crappy docking stations where rats lived underneath the wooden berths and the light gave Beka a constant headache. 

It was only the last part that always made me worry. It was also the last part that brought our short lived happiness to a screeching halt. 

I had been docked there for two hours and forty six minutes. Beka had only paid the docking patrol for two hours. 

I could see two docking patrolers walking around my berth, checking the time on their communicators and swearing and spitting from time to time. I was already anxiously checking around for my captain. Finally, I saw her. She was striding towards me, her arms filled with bags of groceries and toiletries. Harper had run out of hair gel yesterday and my captain needed more razor blades and shampoo. 

As she came towards me, muttering and cursing at the people who kept on bumping into her and glaring at her, she had her eyes set on me, but then quickly noticed the docking patrol. 

Biting her lip, she was about to see if she could run around me and climb up through the cargo hold, but the docking patrol had already seen her. 

Glaring at her and lifting his communicator up to his mouth, he told his partner that he had found her. Crossing his arms, he stood there, patiently waiting for Beka to come closer.

Painting a huge smile on her face, she walked up to him. 

"Hello, there sir. How are we doing this evening?" she asked cheerfully. 

He didn't even blink. "You're forty seven minutes late." He said, disdain in his voice. 

Beka pretended to look surprised. "Really? I wasn't aware of that." She edged a little closer to him. "Now, since you know I really didn't mean to, couldn't you just, well, pretend the time wasn't what it really is?" she batted her eyes at him and leaned closer. 

He didn't even crack a smile. "You're forty seven minutes late which translates to a thirty throne late fine, and if you don't stop this crap, then I'll add on another ten thrones for harrassing a patrol officer."

Realizing it hadn't worked, the smile immediately slid off Beka's face and she sighed. 

"Fine." She grumbled and put one of her bags down on the station floor to dig around in her pocket for a credit chip. A fake credit chip. Handing it to the patrol with an exaggerated flourish, she mumbled a curse at him and then picked up her bags. 

"Bang on my airlock when you've rung it through. These bags are killing my arms."

Nodding, the man turned and briskly walked off towards the little office by one of the station's many doors. 

Sighing, Beka picked up her bags again and walked towards me. Grumbling under her breath, she opened my airlock and stepped up, calling for Harper or Rev to come and help her with the bags. 

Once inside, Beka dragged the bags to the kitchen along with Rev's help and put them on the table. As they started putting things away and rummaging around in the bags, Beka kept on grumbling to herself and swearing. 

Rev frowned. "Is something the matter, Rebecca?"

Beka rolled her eyes. "No, Rev. Everything's perfect. I just like paying a late fine which costs more than all of this junk here did. It's not fair."

Rev struggled to hide a smile. "Of course it isn't."

Beka sighed and glared at him while she stuck bottles of milk into the fridge and slammed the door. "You know what I mean."

Harper wandered into the kitchen and immediately started rummaging around in the bags. Finding his hair gel, a huge smile lit his face up. 

"Nice! And here I thought my hair would have to be a mess for a couple of days."

Beka glanced at him over her shoulder. "You mean that hair of yours isn't a mess now?"

Harper shot her a scathing look and then grinned and kissed the bottle of gel. Tucking it into his toolbelt, he leapt onto the counter. That was when he noticed Beka's foul mood. He frowned at Rev and nodded his chin at Beka. 

"What's wrong with her?"

Rev sighed. "The docking patrol wasn't understanding about a late fine."

Harper glanced at Beka. "Boss, relax. We don't gotta pay for it anyway."

Beka glared at him. "That isn't the point." She sighed. "I'm in a bad mood. Just—just leave it, okay?"

Nodding quietly, Harper leapt off the counter and started helping put things away.

While this was occurring inside of my hull, I was more closely monitoring the situation outside of my hull. I will always thank the old captain and Uncle Sid for giving me both external and internal sensors and the ability to multi-task and monitor things with both of them at the same time. 

After taking the credit chip from Beka, the docking patrol had gone to his office. It was nearly off my sensor range, but I zoomed in as close as I could. When my zooming didn't bring me close enough to see what he was doing in there, I diverted some energy from my auto-pilot reserve towards my external sensors. 

There we go. I could go a little closer and see better. I didn't think for a minute that Beka would be upset over me using my reserve. This was more important than keeping some extra power on hand that had been sitting unused for over ten years. After all, it isn't everyday that a fake credit chip and my crew and captain's lives were all clutched in the hands of a stranger. A docking patrol stranger. There aren't worse kinds. 

I carefully watched him as he went in and kicked the door closed behind him. I could still see what he was doing through a small window. 

He stuck the chip into a little machine and pressed some buttons on it. Probably typing in how late Beka had been and how much she had to pay. If he added those extra ten thrones on there, I swear, I would have turned my proximity mine launcher on and fired them on him. Andromeda laughs over that and says that those wouldn't do anything. I ignore her. Back then, those were the only weapons I had. 

Punching around on it, he stopped and stared down at the machine as he leaned against the window with one hand. Chewing on his lower lip and staring around himself, he waited for the machine to stick the right amount onto the chip. 

When the machine was done, he took the chip out and was about to put it into his pocket when his communicator beeped. How did I know? I could detect the signal travelling from one patrol's communicator to his. Just remember, I'm 'impressive'.

Lifting his communicator up, he started talking to the patrol. While he talked, he grew bored and started playing around with the chip in his hands. First he just threw it up and caught it with one hand. Then he grew tired of that and started turning it in his hand, his fingers grabbing the edges, and using the little cracks in them to create the friction necessary to turn the chip. 

I was nearly falling out of my berth with worry. What if he saw it? Never mind saw, what if he felt it? Felt that the tiny cracks he was using to play with the chip were different than normal ones? What if he detected that the chip was a fake one?

As I watched, he finished talking, but from the way he sighed and rolled his eyes, I guessed the conversation wasn't done. Looking around quickly, I spied the patrol from whom the signal had come pause his communicator and answer some tourist's question about where the nearest bar was. 

Back in the office, the man was obviously getting more bored. As he stared around the office, looking for a distraction, he rummaged around in his pockets and found another credit chip. Tossing them both into the air, he caught them and then slowly started twisting them in his hands, his fingers using the cracks along the side to turn them. 

I was nearly shorting out my sensors with worry. What looked like such a harmless display could turn catastrophic. 

As I watched and grew more and more frantic, I saw the patrol looking out of his window, obviously bored. His fingers were still playing with the chips. 

Suddenly, his fingers slowed down and a strange frown spread across his face. Tearing his eyes off the window, he glanced down at his hands. Slowly, he lifted both chips up to his eyes and stared at them. Frowning, he leaned closer and carefully ran a finger up the side of each chip. Turning them from side to side, he continued staring at the cracks on the sides of the chips. Frowning and shaking his head, he probably thought he was going nuts. Holding both chips in one hand, he put his hand back into his pocket and pulled out another chip. Holding up all three of them, he ran a finger up the side of each of them. A strange look flickered across his face when he felt one of the chips. 

Our chip. 

Slowly, the frown disappeared off his face and he stared out the window, glaring at me. 

Sticking his chips back into his pocket, he tossed our chip up into the air once, caught it and then quickly punched around on his communicator. 

I knew who he was calling. It didn't take an AI to figure it out. He was calling the cops to report a case of counterfeiting. We had gotten caught. 

I was going nuts. Frantically thinking of ways to let my unknowing crew know what was going on, I was nearly shorting out my life support and environmental controls as I watched them cleaning things up in the kitchen and hearing Beka swearing to herself. They had no idea what was going on. I was thinking of releasing the docking clamps myself and flying away, but I couldn't release them without the engines being on, and I couldn't turn the engines on myself. 

Oh, damn it! Who was the idiot who hadn't given me an AI? Damn it! 

While I was still franctically trying to come up with a way to warn my crew of the danger that was approaching, my external sensors picked up several people entering the docking station. As I scanned their uniforms, I immediately realized they were cops. They went over to the office and the patrol officer came out. Showing them the chip, he said something and pointed at me. 

The cops nodded and one of them took the chip and ran his fingers along the side of it. 

Turning around, the entire group started walking towards the Maru, one of the officers talking to the docking patrol while they walked, obviously telling him how to handle the situation.

Stopping in front of my airlock, the patrol officer reached up and hit my com button. 

The beep echoed through my corridors. In the kitchen, Beka ran a hand through her hair, swore and reached over and pressed the white com button. 

"Who is it and what do you want?"

The docking patrol couldn't help but grin as he stood there. "It's docking patrol m'm, here to return your credit chip." The gleeful way he said it and the way he emphasized the words 'credit chip' just made me see how the guy was digging this. Damn him for gloating. My crew was about to land in jail and I was about to be mortaged, and he was gloating. 

Beka frowned and a strange look crossed her face as she slowly let go of the button. 

Harper stared at her from across the kitchen and frowned. "Something the matter?"

Beka gave him an absentminded smile and shook his head. "Nah, not really. I've just never heard a docking patrol sound so cheery before, that's all."

Harper raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't that the guy who was yelling at those Perseids when we first docked? What the hell would make him so happy all of a sudden?"

In the silence that followed, my crew quickly realized what was going on. 

Turning around, Beka's eyes met Harper's and Rev's as Harper's frown disappeared and he stared at her from where he was sitting on the counter and Rev had slowly turned around from where he was standing before the sink. 

Reaching down, Beka pulled her gun out of her holster. Rev rolled up his sleeves and tossed his medallion over his shoulder and Harper pulled his knife out of his pant leg and tugged the gun Beka had finally convinced him to carry more securily and within easy grabbing distance in his tool belt. 

Beka went first and Harper followed at her heels. They crept down the corridor, their eyes glancing around and their ears listening for the slightest noise. Over the years, Beka had started picking up Harper's little trick about not only using your eyes to see, but using your nose and your ears to see as well. A spacer using earther tricks. Not a sight you saw every day.

Rev stayed behind them. When they reached the airlock, Beka and Harper pressed themselves against it, straining to hear what was going on outside. 

I turned my external sensors off to see what it would be like. I could hear quiet murmurs from outside and somebody clearing his throat. 

Harper went to a little crack in my hull and carefully sniffed it. 

Edging up to Beka, he leaned up and whispered into her ear. "I don't know who they are or how many, but our guy ain't out there alone."

Beka looked at Rev, who was crouching in a corner close to the airlock. He quietly nodded. He had heard. 

Motioning with her gun for Harper to stand back, she turned the safety off on her gun and then reached over and opened the airlock. 

At first, both groups of people stood and stared at each other. Then the cops realized she was pointing a gun at them and pulled out their guns. 

"Put your gun down, m'm! Now! Get down on the floor, m'm!" one of them yelled up at her. 

The docking patrol had leapt back in a panic as soon as he saw the gun. 

Beka's eyes widened as soon as she saw the cops. She glanced at Harper, who swore. 

Before Beka could lunge at the airlock panel and close the door, one of the cops had pushed the docking patrol out of the way and had leapt up inside of me. Still screaming at Beka to lower her weapon and get down on the floor with her hands up, Beka lowered her gun but swiftly kicked the guy in the face. Shooting a cop wasn't part of a haulers moral code. There are limits to everything. Twisting around, she punched him and kicked him again. With a surprised cry, the guy fell back and flew out of the open airlock and fell into his fellow officers. 

While Beka caught her breath, Harper lunged across the floor and slammed the airlock shut. 

While Harper secured the door, Beka tucked her gun back into her holster and raced down the corridor towards the cockpit. 

Rev had already beat her to it and had turned my engines on. Leaping over the railing and throwing herself into the piloting chair, Beka frantically tried releasing the docking clamps. I couldn't get them off. No matter how much I yelled and commanded them to release me, they wouldn't budge. 

"Shit!" Beka cried as she punched the button over and over again. "Rev! I can't get the clamps off!"

Rev stared frantically out the window where the cops were starting to surround us with their guns pointed straight at us. If we didn't get out of there quickly, I knew they wouldn't hesistate to blow my windshield to pieces. 

"There isn't any time, Beka!" Rev called over to her. "We have to leave now! Just push the thrusters to maximum power and tear the clamps off!"

Nodding, Beka turned and punched a button on the main control panel. Quickly, I threw all of my available power into the thrusters. With a shake and a roar, I lifted up. My engines rumbling and shaking violently, I shuddered from the effort and strained to tear the clamps off of me. With a loud groan and a screech of metal bending, the clamps finally tore free. Along with the clamps, we had managed to tear out a couple of the berth boards as well, but I was beyong caring. 

Shoving a strand of hair out of her face, Beka gave me a tiny smile. "Good girl, Maru. You always come through for us, girl, don't you? Now, get us out of here."

With that, she turned my nose up and shoved the controls forward and I shot out of the docking station and went hurling through space towards the nearest slipstream portal, leaving Kendria Drift far behind. 

Database Records Archive: 91 (10088)

We never did get caught. We ran like crazy, hurling through space and slipping from system to system until we were sure that nobody could follow us or find us. 

Once more, we had gotten away in the nick of time, leaving behind a bunch of angry people, including very pissed off cops, and a huge fine and a bucketful of jail time. 

The only thing we took away from the ordeal was the fact that Beka had counterfeiting of fake credit chips stuck onto her criminal record. 

Harper had nearly made himself sick laughing over that, particularily seeing that Beka had made fun of him for his public lewdness charge. Now, he said, it was his turn to laugh. 

Rev ignored their bickering and laughing as he quietly went into the engineering room and took our little precious device. Making sure they didn't see him, he smiled down at the little, metal device whose wires were glowing quietly. Such a little machine, so much happiness, and such harsh consequences. 

Opening the boiler, Rev threw it inside, pulling himself out of the way from the mini explosion which rumbled through the boiler. 

Slamming the door shut, he dusted his hands off and walked out of the engineering room and quietly shut the door behind him. 


	36. Chapter 36

The Diaries 

Chapter 36

Database Records Archive: 92 (10085)

Specific Time: Two months after the Kendria 'incident'

Beka stuck her head out of her quarters. "Harper?"

Harper looked up from where he was tinkering around with a scanner on his bunk. "Yeah?"

"Can you go and look through mail call?"

Harper grumbled under his breath. "I'm in the middle of something, damn it. Why can't you do it?"

Beka grinned. "Cause I'm lazy and I'm the captain and I say so. Rev would do it, but since he's not here, I don't think that's possible."

Rolling his eyes and muttering some rather rude things under his breath, he tossed the scanner aside and jumped down. 

Going down the corridor, he stuck his tongue out at Beka when he passed by her. When he reached the cockpit, he could still hear her laughing at him. 

Sitting down at the console, he turned the screen on and punched in a few commands. Immediately, I opened up the folder into which I stick all the mail which I receive. Slowly, I spat them out on the screen. 

Skimming them over, Harper either deleted them or stuck them into other folders. Yawning as he did it, he hardly paid attention as he deleted a lottery opportunity from Infinity. 

Frowning slightly, he leaned down and itched his leg where his sock had been bugging him for days. He kept on glancing back and forth between his sock and the screen, as he continued deleting random ads and junk mail. 

If he wouldn't have glanced up at just that right moment, he would have missed it completely. From a first, quick glance, the ad didn't look a bit different from the others. A colorful frame surrouded the large, bold green Vedran letters which spun around or changed colors randomly or grew smaller or larger in a pumping rhythm. Tiny 'ad bugs' as they're called raced across the screen. They came with every single ad, and if you wanted to contact the seller of whatever the ad was offering, you just had to press one of the bugs and you would immediately be put through to the appropriate person. 

None of these things would have caught Harper's attention, were it not for two tiny words which glowed faintly and were surrounded by twinkling golden stars. 

Those two words were 'cerebral' and 'ports'.

When those two tiny words registered, Harper's eyes widened and he jerked his head up to look at the screen. 

Leaning forward until his nose was nearly touching the screen, he frantically read over the ad, having forgotten about his sock all together and the fact that he was supposed to always delete ads. 

As he finished it, his eyes nearly fell out of his head and he probably didn't believe his own eyes, so he read it again. He was getting so excited that the words blurred a little and he lost his place once or twice, so he finished reading it by following the words with his finger. 

After reading it through two more times, he leaned back from the screen. Shaking from excitement, a huge smile stretched across his face. 

Leaping out of the chair and spinning around—nearly losing his balance and almost falling backwards into the screen but catching himself in time—he ran down the corridor.

"Boss! Boss! You've got to come and read this! Boss! Beka!" he yelled, madly racing towards Beka's quarters. 

He nearly ran straight into her. Having heard his frantic yelling and probably thinking that I was on fire or something, Beka had leapt off her bed and come running out, all prepared to battle the devil himself. 

When she nearly collided with a frantic, shaking and way too excited Harper, she raised her eyebrows. 

He was jumping all around, grinning madly and was hysterically blabbing something, his words colliding all over each other and interupted by frantic breaths from time to time. 

Beka frowned as she tried to understand him. Still not sure whether it was a real emergency or not, she knew that Harper's hysterics wouldn't fix the situation. 

Grabbing him by the shoulders, she shook him a few times. "Seamus Zelazny Harper! Would you calm down and make some sense? I can't understand a damn word you're saying!"

Cutting himself off, he tried to control himself, but couldn't quite keep himself from jumping around impatiently and gasping for breath as he excitedly pointed behind him. 

"You gots to come and read this, boss! Quickly!"

Frowning and looking her hysterical engineer up and down, Beka finally realized that I wasn't on fire and there weren't any cops or pirates on our tail. Whenever danger lurked nearby, Harper would get quiet, alert and frightened, controlled not by hysteria, but by paranoia. However, when something excited him, all of his quiet apprehensiveness and alertness flew away and left him in hysterics and barely remembering to breath. 

Letting go of his shoulders, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Raising her eyebrows and rolling her eyes at the strange craziness of her engineer, she crossed her arms. 

"What the hell is so important in the cockpit? Call me strange, but I never get this excited over mail call, and I don't remember you ever going into hysterics over it either. True, getting told that you have the chance to win your very own nonexistent moon some time in the near future can be very thrilling, but it's never made me hysterical."

Scowling at that, Harper waved it aside with one hand while he grabbed her crossed arms with his other hand and started pulling her towards the cockpit. Having to nearly run to keep up with him as he excitedly jumped all over the place and continuely ranted that she absolutely had to see this, Beka could hardly suppress a smile. 

When they finally got to the cockpit, Harper pulled her over to the screen, sat her down on the chair, and started jabbing his finger at the screen. 

Leaning forward and frowning, Beka skimmed the title. Right after seeing the words 'cerebral' and 'ports', she sighed and briefly closed her eyes. "Harper…" she groaned softly.

Clenching her jaw at the prospect of having this heartbreaking argument with him for the millionth time, she was interupted by Harper shaking her shoulder. 

"Don't get all 'I'm sorry it ain't happening, Harper'. Just read it first. Please, Beka? Just read it and then you'll see that this time I ain't nuts."

Giving him a hard look, she finally sighed, muttered 'what the hell' under her breath and read the rest of the ad. 

When she was half way through it, an interested frown crossed her face and she sat up a little straighter and paid more attention. Harper started shifting around even more excitedly, and the grin on his face couldn't have widened lest it break his face in half. 

When Beka was done, she slowly leaned back, her eyes still on the ad. 

Harper was quietly holding his breath beside her, not daring to say a word in fear of making her laugh it off and say 'forget about it' again. Anxiously shifting from one foot to the other, the hope that shone in his eyes was almost unbearable. 

Beka slowly started chewing on her lip as she frowned and read the ad over again, this time slower. Leaning forward, she told me to zoom in closer and she carefully examined every inch of the ad for any tiny print which always lurked behind the frame and the ad bugs and basically said the aid was a hoax and if you purchased anything from it, your bank account would all of a sudden decrease mysteriously. Well, alright, the text didn't exactly say that, but that was what it meant to imply. 

Not seeing any text, Beka frowned even more as she asked me to take the ad through the 'color test'. Harper immediately fussed and scowled that the ad was legit and Beka shouldn't be so paranoid—yeah, and this coming from the most paranoid person in the world. 

I smiled. My captain still didn't believe the ad was legitimate and still didn't think there wasn't a catch. Looking at the ad, I couldn't blame her. It really did seem too good to be true. 

Searching around in my database, I found my command set for the 'color test' and initiated it. Quickly, I tore the ad through several color filters. 

What this process really does is hard and complicated to explain, but I'll try to put it into simple terms. 

Every ad that's approved by a company is put through a computer program that imbeds the printing into the background of the ad. It's like burning the writing onto the background. Fake ads which were created by cheap computer programs and bored scammers didn't have the print imbedded into the background and could be easily removed. The way one can tell the difference is by taking the ad through what the old captain, Beka and I have nicknamed the 'color test'. If one rips the ad through rapid color changes, the fake ads will result in having the printing torn off them, while the legit ads won't have been altered a bit. There you have it. Whether you cared or not, you now know how to tell a fake ad from the real thing. The next time you get scammed buying cratefulls of non-existent plants which supposedly hadn't been seen in twenty years, don't come crying to me. This goes for Andromeda too.

Finding the right program, I pulled the ad through about fifty different color changes, randomly increasing the speed at which I was changing it, so if the ad contained any hidden little chip, then the chip couldn't adjust to my speed and keep up with it. 

Finally, I stopped and we all stared at the ad. The print was in perfect condition and the entire ad had remained unchanged. 

Beka stared at the ad and her eyebrows flew up. "Well, I'll be damned. The thing's actually real." She muttered, leaning back and crossing her arms while still staring at it. 

Beside her, Harper was nearly beside himself. "You see? You see? You see? Told you it was legit!" he breathlessly babbled.

Chewing on her lower lip, Beka stared at the ad, re-reading it half a dozen times before slowly turning in the chair and looking up at Harper.

"Seamus, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'll think about it, okay? Now, I don't want you to fly off into hysterical joy and start thinking about what disk you want to upload first, because I'm not making any promises, okay? I'm begging you to remember that I just said I'd think about it, okay? I'm not saying yes or no."

Harper nodded, jumping from foot to foot and grinning. "Yeah, but at least you said you'll think about it. That's one better than you saying to forget about it."

Beka smiled. "Yeah, it is. But I'm not joking, shorty. Don't get your hopes up, for your sake, and mine, okay?"

With that, she pushed herself off her chair and stood there for a moment, still staring down at the screen. Raising her eyebrows, she sighed and ruefully shook her head. 

"Well, I'll run it by Rev, okay? I'll see what he thinks. He'll probably call me nuts and give me that look of his that tells me he thinks I'm losing it, but I'll give it a shot." She gave Harper a sideways glance and held up a finger and pointed it at him. "But remember, I'm not making any promises, okay?"

Harper nodded again frantically, willing to agree with whatever she wanted right now, as long as she didn't say no again. 

Turning around, she muttered to herself that she must be losing it and slowly walked out of the cockpit and down the corridor. 

As soon as she left, Harper leapt over to the computer screen, gave it a big hug and kissed the screen with a loud smack. "You know I love you, don't you? And if Beka says okay, then I'll worship ad bugs for the rest of my life and I'll never delete another piece of junk mail again, okay?"

Back in the corridor, Beka was making her way towards the kitchen, when Rev opened the airlock and made his way towards her. His greetings faded and died away when he saw the strange look on her face. She had her eyebrows raised and was trying to smother a smile on her face while the rest of her face had a frown on it. 

Rev immediately looked concerned. "Beka, are you alright? Perhaps you should sit down."

Beka laughed. "Rev, I really don't know if I'm losing it or if I'm actually thinking straight here, but I'm actually thinking about it. I'm actually thinking about the damn thing."

Rev blinked. "Thinking about what?"

Beka chuckled slightly and marvelled at her own insanity. Looking at Rev, she leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms. "Harper might actually get a port, Rev. Our little, scrawny mudfoot might actually get a cerebral port."

It isn't many times that you see a speechless magog, but right then, I saw one of those times. 

Database Records Archive: 93 (10085)

Specific Time: Five minutes later

"Rebecca, I hope you don't take any offense to this, but have you been drinking?"

Beka rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Rev, you know I don't drink." She looked at the magog and saw the skepticism in his eyes. She laughed and threw up her hands. "Rev, I know you think it's a crazy idea, I mean, I think so too. But you have to say that it actually sounds possible."

Rev continued staring at her, eyebrows raised and eyes unbelieving. Finally shaking his head, he sighed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. 

"Alright, so let me get this straight. A Perseid scientist on Sinti somewhere—"

"Dr. Minters."

"Right. He—Dr. Minters—has been experimenting with cerebral technology for years and claims he has created a cerebral port which can be integrated into the weakest of immune systems without any side effects."

Beka smiled faintly. "Well, not exactly. What I read in the ad was that he had been experimenting with cerebral ports for years and he disliked the high risk factor they involved and the complications which resulted from their integration with weaker immune systems, so he created a port which is easier to install and it's integration period is shorter and thus, doesn't leave as much room for rejection from the person as normal ones do."

Rev mulled this over, tilting his head this way and that, before he finally glanced at Beka. "Alright, but all of the medical aspects aside, what is he charging for this?"

Beka pursed her lips. "This is the only part where I find a serious problem. The guy's charging 7500 thrones for it all. I don't think I have to point out that we don't even have a quarter of that money to spare."

Rev nodded slowly and then sighed. "Well, it's a pity. Really, it is. I mean, we both know how much Master Harper wants this, and this man actually sounds like he could make it possible, but with that price tag…"

Beka nodded and held up a hand. "Rev, trust me, I know. I didn't say yes to Harper yet, and I'm not going to. But think about it, if this guy is legit—and chinheads—" 

"Perseids."

"—Whatever, — rarely aren't—then maybe it's true and there are ports out there for people with Harper's immune system. I'm not saying this is the answer we've been looking for, but it's a start. Even if we can't afford it, we can talk to the guy about it and find out more."

Rev glanced at her. "Beka, if we do meet with him, I don't need to point out the fact that he might have some hidden tricks up his sleeve. I mean, a cerebral port like this is unheard of and I don't think it has no strings attached to it, if you understand me."

Beka laughed. "Rev, the day that I let some stranger use my engineer for a cerebral operation with me not knowing each and every step of it, even when he takes a breath, is the day after I die. All I'm saying is that this guy might have something we can use. If nothing else, I want to know more about these ports and see if they're legit."

Rev nodded slowly. "So you'll meet with him?"

Beka nodded. "Yeah, just to talk, you know? Besides, it's about time I figure out how these damn ports work. You know basically all there is to know about the operation and Harper even knows what color variations you can get for the actual disk, but I know squat. If we're starting to be serious about this, I refuse to go in blindfolded, especially when Harper's life is on the line."

Database Records Archive: 94 (10085)

Specific Time: Two days later

Dr. Minters was just like all other cheery, paranoid, and way-too-polite-for-their-own-good Perseids that I have come in contact with. 

As soon as he stepped through the airlock, a huge grin stretched across his face, and he enthusiastically shook Beka's hand, asking her how she was and telling her he was doing fantastic all in the same breath, and at the same time, he was bowing to Rev and telling Beka what a fascinating cluster of asteriods he had seen on his way over here and by the way, did Beka have some Tellerian coffee on hand by any chance?

I nearly exhausted my sensors during the first five minutes of watching him. From the bewildered look on Beka's face and Rev's raised eyebrows, neither of them could keep up with the doctor's bundle of energy either. 

Still talking and awing over things, the Perseid was making his way down the corridor towards the kitchen. Beka and Rev exchanged glances, shrugged helplessly and ran after him.

Beka arrived in the kitchen just in time to offer him a chair and answer his question on exactly what temperature she liked to keep the fridge at.

After Rev arrived and started making the doctor a cup of coffee, the latter seemed to calm down and stared around the kitchen, muttering 'fascinating, fascinating' from time to time when he saw something that he found impressive. What can I say? I'm a scientific marvel and an example of engineering perfection. Stop sniggering, Andromeda. That's right, I can hear you. 

After pouring the doctor a cup of coffee and handing it to him, Rev sat down beside Beka. Letting Dr. Minters oh and aw over the coffee for a bit and smack his lips appreciatively, Beka leaned forward and clasped her hands together. Noticing that she was ready to get down to business, Dr. Minters seemed to calm down suddenly and grew more serious.

"So, Captain Valentine, although I can't say enough about your wonderful coffee and ship and hospitality, I have to say that I don't think this is a pure social visit and I assume you contacted me for a reason."

Beka nodded. "Doctor, please call me Beka. It makes things so much easier. Formality complicates things."

The doctor nodded heartily and sipped his coffee. "Quite right, quite right." He muttered. 

Beka bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Anyway, I contacted you because I came across your ad a few days ago."

He nodded and leaned forward. "You heard about my experiments with cerebral technology?"

Beka nodded. He frowned for a moment and looked her up and down.

"Captain—Beka—I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I don't take you to have what I might classify as a weak immune system. You shouldn't have any problems with the regular ports."

Beka smiled. "No, no, doctor. I'm not the one who wants a port. It's my engineer."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, but are you sure he falls into the right category? I mean, I don't think I need to point out that going with regular ports is less risky if you can take them—"

Beka smiled faintly. "He's from earth, doctor."

Suddenly, his face lit up with understanding. "Oh, that explains everything, Beka. Now we're on the same page."

I was waiting for the usual pity or disgust which usually accompanied this, but none came. The doctor treated the situation as if he came across it everyday. Well, for someone who spent their time developing cerebral technology for people with weak immune systems, I wasn't completely surprised. 

The doctor cleared his throat. "Beka, if you don't mind, could I meet your engineer?"

Beka smiled and waved a hand. "Doctor, you're veering off in the wrong path. You see, I just wanted to talk to you about these ports so I could understand them a little better." She licked her lips and glanced at Rev. I could tell she was slightly embarrassed. "You see, doc, the truth is, we don't have the kind of money that you're asking for. There's no way we can afford it. Harper came across your ad a few days ago, and his poor heart is so set on this that I couldn't just brush it off so I said I'd talk to you and find out more, but I'm afraid that no matter how many discounts you give us, we still won't be able to afford it."

The doctor gave her an understanding smile. "What if I said that I would do it for free? Could you then afford it?"

Beka hadn't completely let his words sink in. She gave him a polite smile. "No, doctor, I'm sorry. I looked over our budget a million times, but I can't even squeeze out fifty thrones for you. It's killing Harper, but this is all I can give him—"

He smiled again. "Beka, I don't think you understood me. I asked if you could afford it if I could do it for free?"

Beka opened her mouth again to try and bring across the message that we were broke, but finally, her mind caught up with her ears. The words died on her lips and a surprised frown crossed her face as she stared at the doctor with her mouth still hanging open. 

Gaping at him for a good few minutes, it wasn't until Rev gently nudged her that she remembered to close her mouth and find her voice.

"That's—uhm—that's—uhm—doctor, well, quite frankly—uhm—that's—I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

The doctor tried to hide his amusement. "Captain, I realize it's a stretch for you, but I'm offering to do the operation for free."

Still gaping at him with huge eyes, Beka struggled to put her jumbled thoughts into some sort of order. When she couldn't get one sentence out, she finally shook her head and leaned back.

"I'm sorry, doctor, but I'm just too shocked for words. I just don't know what to say."

He smiled, understanding. "Don't worry about it, Captain. Nearly every one of my clients has the same reaction. I'm used to it."

Realizing that Beka still couldn't quite say anything coherent, Rev leaned forward. He had suspiciously stared at the doctor ever since he heard the latter's generous offer.

"If you don't mind my asking, doctor…" he started out tentatively.

"Not at all, Reverend, not at all. Go right ahead."

"I really don't mean to be rude, but I'm guessing that this isn't an offer that you hold exclusive to us, and in that case, how in the realm of the Divine do you make your money?"

Dr. Minters laughed cheerfully. "Oh, I get my money, I assure you. I also do regular port implants and I get money from that. You won't believe the amount of money some people are willing to spend on ports. The more features I include, the more they pay. It seems that the lazier the individual can become, the more they're willing to pay me. Anyway, I also do cerebral research and I'm sponsored by the Sinti Science Committee for that. So I assure you, offers such as these are perfectly legitimate and don't put a dent into my budget at all. Besides, there aren't many individuals who need these special kinds of ports, and therefore, I don't find myself making this offer very often, so I can easily afford to do it occasionally."

Rev nodded, suddenly understanding. Glancing at Beka, he could tell she had partially recovered and had carefully listened to what the doctor was saying. 

Leaning forward again, she stared at him evenly. "So you're serious about this? You'll do the entire operation, from start to finish, including integration and manual use training for absolutely free?"

Nodding, the doctor laughed when he saw Beka and Rev's obvious skepticism. "Just as I suspected." He sighed and shook his head as he dug around in his pockets for a flexi which he handed to Beka. "Never in my life have I made this offer and not been met by a barrage of skepticism and doubts. Here. On this flexi you can find my credentials, a direct statement from the Science Committee and previous records of my former patients, paid ones and free ones."

Taking the flexi, Beka turned it on, and together, Rev and her poured over it, carefully reading every word and checking it over thoroughly. After mulling it over and checking and re-checking it, Rev finally nodded and Beka glanced up at the doctor. Handing him the flexi, she raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, I'm damn surprised, doctor, but I don't think that's any news to you. But I don't want you to think that just because I believe you I'm willing to agree to this right off the bat. I'll admit doctor. I don't know anything about cerebral ports, much less anything about these new ones that you made. If you don't mind and if you want to ensnare a new client, I'd like to know everything that you know about ports in general and what makes these ones so special."

The doctor smiled. "People have written entire holo-volumes of cerebral technology and I have been studying it for about thirty years."

Beka smiled apologetically. "Well, I'm sorry, doctor, but I refuse to take this discussion any further until I know exactly how, when, why and what you are potentially going to be putting into my engineer's neck. Until I know, we're not moving from this table."

The doctor smiled, admiration glimmering in his eyes as he stared at Beka. It wasn't very often that you found a cargo hauler captain putting her crew's life on the top of her priority list. Sure, it's something the old Commonwealth took for granted, but out here in this day and age, it was rare and far in between, but never in my corridors. 

Refilling his cup from the pot of coffee which Rev had put onto the table, the doctor leaned back, made himself comfortable and started telling Beka the names of the major components of a port, the size of all the parts and what their functions were. 

After a lengthy discussion, Dr. Minters had basically covered the major components and functions of a normal port, explained problems, side-effects and technical and medical complications associated with them. Two empty pots of coffee sat on the table amid a huge sea of flexi's and data disks. The flexi's were covered in schematics, statistics and doctor reports. 

In the middle of the table, the doctor had placed a holographic schematic of a data port, complete with the nerves and bones it would be incorporated with in an individual's brain and neck. It hovered and glowed in brilliant colors above the table, slowly revolving as Beka and Rev asked the doctor questions and he answered them. His enthusiasm never wavered and he never hesitated about answering certain questions, even when he encountered some that he had to admit that not enough research had been done in that area to provide a scientifically sound answer. 

Beka was just about to ask him about the new ports, when the engineering door opened and Harper came down the corridor. He'd been fixing my slipstream drive for the past two hours. Even though Beka had told him to take a break and come and talk to the doctor with her, he'd right away protested that it was more important to fix a slipstream drive. Beka had frowned at him and rolled her eyes, but had let him stay there. Harper's insecurity and nervousness around strangers from a higher social class than our own still hadn't been put to rest and Beka didn't want to push him. She told him she'd let him take his time and come out when he was ready, but only if he promised to at least poke his nose into the kitchen to say hello while the doctor was here. 

Apparently Harper had decided to muster up his courage and come and see the doctor. Probably the thought of having the person who could give him a port sitting in the kitchen was enough to make him swallow his nerves and insecurity and come out. 

He paused before the kitchen door. He glanced into a metal pipe on my wall beside him and frowned when he saw grease smudges on his cheeks and forehead. Wiping his hands on his pants, he licked his fingers and wiped the smudges off and then rubbed his hands in his shirt to clean them. Pulling his shirt straight and making sure his toolbelt was hanging straight, he took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen. 

Dr. Minters was about to answer Beka's question, but immediately stopped talking when he saw Harper. He still had his mouth open and had a finger in the air, but he slowly lowered it and smiled gently when he saw Harper. 

"This must be your engineer, captain." He said softly, glancing at Beka. Beka nodded while she got up and went to stand beside Harper. 

Putting a calming hand on his shoulder, she gently nudged him forward a little. Harper was staring at the doctor with wide eyes, still not quite used to seeing people like this, and especially seeing Perseids and other aliens who didn't visit earth very often. 

When Beka pushed him gently, Harper suddenly remembered his manners and stuck his right hand out. The doctor stared at Harper's hand with amazement, before he smiled and shook his hand in return. I knew what he was thinking. Perseids didn't shake hands. It wasn't their custom, but Harper didn't know that. The doctor knew this too. Instead of embarrassing Harper and making him even more shy by pointing out his mistake, he ignored it and shook his hand anyway. I don't know about the rest of my crew, but from that moment on, I really liked Dr. Minters. 

When Harper couldn't seem to find his voice and tear his eyes off the Perseid doctor, Beka made the introductions. 

"This is Seamus Harper, doctor. My ship's engineer and the finishing part of my crew." She said. 

The doctor smiled at Harper kindly, not too enthusiastically, but enough to make sure Harper knew he was friendly and wasn't going to hurt him. 

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Harper."

Harper stared for a moment, until Beka nudged him again and he finally found his voice. 

"It's nice to meet you too, Dr. Minters, sir." He said quietly. The 'sir' had slipped out from pure habit and I doubt Harper had even noticed it. Beka and Dr. Minters both ignored it and Rev just looked the other way. Harper was just nervous. Any idiot could see that. 

Pulling out a chair, Beka gently pushed him into it and then sat down beside him. When Harper shifted around under the doctor's gaze, the doctor averted his eyes and instead turned to Beka and started showing her some unimportant data on a flexi. 

From the way he was clutching the edges of his chair and was nervously chewing on his lower lip, I could tell Harper still wasn't comfortable. Not interupting the doctor, Beka put one of her hands under the table and reached for Harper's hand. Finding it, she dislodged it from the chair and gave it a squeeze. 

Rev was looking at Harper and could see the way his eyes kept on wandering towards the door. Knowing that if Harper ran he would be running away from a chance in a lifetime without him ever having known it, Rev decided to fix that. 

Getting up, he slowly walked around the table and stood behind Harper's chair, lightly leaning on it and pretending to need to stretch his legs. 

Having Beka beside him and holding his hand and having Rev standing behind him relaxed Harper immediately and made him feel safer. It was like being enveloped in a cocoon of safety and protection. 

The tenseness draining out of him and he relaxed into his chair and started paying attention to what the doctor was saying. 

Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, the doctor could see when Harper had relaxed. Abruptly ending his droning monologue about the unimportant data he held in his hand, he tossed it onto the table and gave Harper a gentle smile. 

"So, Mr. Harper, would you like to hear about your new port?"

Harper stared at him, momentarily confused. "My—my—_my_ new port?"

Beka rolled her eyes. "No, shorty, he's talking about mine." She shook her head with an exasperated smile. "Of course he's talking about yours."

Harper stared at Beka and looked so confused that I nearly felt sorry for him. "But—but I thought we ain't had the money…"

The doctor chuckled quietly. "There's no need for anybody to have any money, Mr. Harper. As I already told your captain and the Reverend, I do these kinds of operations for free."

Harper gaped at him, having the same reaction that Beka had had. "F-free?"

Rev quietly laughed behind him. "I assure you, Harper, you're not going deaf in your old age. You're hearing the doctor right. He does these operations for free. He gets his money from regular operations and research sponsorships."

The disbelief on Harper's face was quickly replaced by apprehensive skepticism. Glancing at Beka and quickly at Rev, his eyes plainly said what he didn't want to put into words. 

Beka laughed when she understood what he was trying to tell her. "Don't worry, Harper. We checked it all out. He's legit. Him and this whole deal. Everything checked out okay."

Letting Harper absorb it for a minute, the doctor waited until he was sure Harper believed and trusted what he'd heard. Then he leaned forward, gave Harper a smile and quietly started telling him about his new port. 

"Now, I already filled your captain in on the major aspects of cerebral ports—components, technology, manual use, integration, after care etc—and I understand you've done quite a bit of research on the subject yourself, so I'll spare you the repetition and just launch right into telling you about the specifics of these so called Immuno-ports." Leaning forward, he deleted the holographic image of the regular port, typed a few commands into the holo-emitter, and suddenly, a new image appeared. 

I carefully scanned and studied the port as if slowly revolved above the holo disk from which it was being projected. 

Forgetting his apprehensivenes, Harper leaned forward curiously and stared at the hologram. 

"The main difference which can be noticed between regular ports and Immuno-ports is the size. Regular ports are slightly larger and can come in sizes twice, sometimes three times the size of these ones. The larger they are, the more functions and programs they can store and the lazier the person connected to them can become. For example, the largest ones can control entire ships—all their systems, controls and even sensors—very much like an AI could. However, before you start getting starry-eyed from the prospect of flying the Maru around using your mind, I have to tell you that these kinds of functions are beyond Immuno-ports capabilities. They're much smaller than regular ports, and this is for a reason. They can store less information and can only hold certain programs, however, their integration into a person's immune system is less dangerous and straining and the chance of rejection is considerably lower. With a smaller port, the amount of wires and controls which need to be implanted are also less, so the overall risk of the operation is decreased considerably."

Although Harper's face had slightly fallen when he had heard that he couldn't have as much 'power' as other people could with their ports, his face had lit up again when he heard that these ports had a lower risk attached to them. 

Beka leaned forward, hope shining in her eyes. Rev too, leaned forward, interest sparking in his eyes. 

"You mean—you mean that it could actually work?" Harper breathed. 

The doctor smiled. "Well, I would have to take a look at your medical files, but I think it shouldn't be a problem. I have done about twenty of these kinds of operations on—if you pardon the expression—mudfeet. They were all highly successful, as your captain and the Reverend have read in my record." At this point, the doctor figured he had to dump the bad news on them. There was a 'however' hovering in his next words, and I could feel it coming. There had to be a catch in here, there just had to be. And from the way Harper, Beka and Rev were all warily looking at him, they knew it too. 

Clasping his hands, he glanced down at the table before he looked up again and looked from one to the other before quietly continuing.

"However, I don't want to bring across the message that this operation is risk-free, quick and painless. It's none of these. The regular operation takes about twelve hours to complete, and this one usually takes anywhere from eighteen to twenty hours, depending on how badly damaged of a nervous system we are dealing with. Also, the integration period takes longer than for regular ports. There aren't that many parts of the port which need to be accepted by the hosts body, but it takes longer. The enzymes and other small 'helpers' which help with the integration process exist in smaller numbers in such hosts and thus, the body has a harder time combining with the new parts. Also, once the body has combined with the new parts, it tends to quite violently reject them. Although with proper medication the process can be shortened, it is still painfull and can take quite some time with the patient falling in and out of consciousness quite randomly. The entire recovery period can take anywhere from three weeks to two months during which they are quite literally helpless and mindless in every sense of the word." He carefully looked back and forth between Rev and Beka. "If you are intending to go through with this, I will warn you now that Mr. Harper can't be left alone for even a minute during the entire recovery period. His body and his mind will be existing on separate terms and he won't be able to do anything himself—feed himself, cloth himself, nothing. It's a strenous and painful task, not only for the patient, but those who are taking care of him. Now, although the operation is free and the port is free, I will warn you that if you intend for Mr. Harper to stay in the hosptital during the recovery time, this will be costly and lengthy. If you prefer to keep him here, I can give you all the information you need about the after care and how to contact me in only seconds if need be."

With that, he leaned back and calmly poured himself a cup of coffee. 

Rev was staring at the floor, frowning and lost in thought and Beka and Harper both looked a little paler than usual as they stared at the table. 

The doctor glanced up at them. "The decision is yours to make. Feel free to ask me any other questions you have and I will gladly answer them. However, if you decide you want to go ahead with this, I will have to get a copy of Mr. Harper's medical file and then I have to go back to my lab and build up an Immuno-port which would best suit him. But as I said, the decision rests in your hands. It's a dangerous decision to make and one that would put Mr. Harper's life on the line and it's also something I won't be able to reverse. The only thing I can give you captain is that you have my word that I'll do my best if you decide to go through with this."


	37. Chapter 37

The Diaries 

Chapter 37

Database Records Archive: 95 (10085)

Specific Time: That night

As I skim over the previous records of Beka and Harper arguing over the port, I always see this casual, light heartedness laced into it. 

That night, when my entire crew sat around the kitchen table quietly talking about the port and the operation, that casual, light atmosphere had disappeared and had been replaced by a hard seriousness. 

Before leaving, the doctor had told them that he had a conference to go to in two months, and he didn't want to be away while Harper was recovering, so if they wanted to get this done, they would have to make their decision within the next day. 

So Beka had made another pot of coffee, opened a can of Sparky for Harper and had announced that none of them were going to bed until they've thought and talked it through and they had come to a decision. 

So they talked. Rev and Beka were worried sick over the operation, but Harper said he felt okay about it since he felt that the doc was 'an okay guy'. Beka had rolled her eyes and said she wasn't going to base a life or death decision on whether or not the doctor was 'okay' or not. Harper had sighed and said that Beka knew what he meant and that she should have more coffee since she was getting grumpy. 

All three of them were worried over the operation and the recovery period, and of course, they all worried over whether or not the doctor would stab them in the back and make them pay afterwards. 

But as they argued it all over, they finally decided they could trust the doctor, and besides, Beka and Rev would be with Harper every step of the way, during the operation and afterwards, so if anybody pulled any 'funny tricks', they could intervene immediately. 

Finally having covered it all, Beka stared at the table and glanced up at Harper. Looking him straight in the eye, she looked at him without a trace of humor on her face. There aren't many times when my captain looks completely serious, but now she did. 

"Seamus Harper, do you really want to go through with this?"

He nodded eagerly, his eyes shining. "Yeah, boss. You know I do."

Beka didn't smile. "No, I mean are you ready to deal with the operation and the recovery including all the crap it brings? The nausea, pain, confusion and the long period of being completely helpless? And let's not forget, your body might hate the port more than we counted on and you might die. Do you really want to go through with this despite those risks?"

Harper's enthusiasm waned slightly and he shrugged, avoiding Beka's eyes. 

Beka sighed. "Harper, you won't get out of this one by shrugging it off. It's your life and it's your neck and it's your future. Not mine. It's your decision. I know that technically I could make the decision for you, but I'm not going to. It's your choice and I'm not moving until you've made it."

Harper was staring at the table and wasn't answering. From time to time, his eyes would slowly glance up, but then he'd quickly let them drift downwards again. He wanted to say something but he didn't have the courage. 

Rev leaned forward. "Master Harper, what ever you want to say, you know you can say it. There aren't any strangers here, it's just the three of us."

Harper glanced up at him and then looked at Beka and then shrugged. "It's just that—well it's stupid really—it's just…" his voice faded. Neither Beka or Rev pushed him. They simply waited. Biting his lip, he finally admitted it quietly. "I don't wanna go to the hospital. That's all."

Beka frowned. "Shorty, are you nuts? You have to go if you want to do this. They can't do the operation here in the kitchen."

Rev was frowning as he carefully looked at Harper, and he could see there was something behind this. "Harper, why don't you want to go?"

He shrugged. "I just don't."

Rev smiled. "You will have to give me more than that if you want me to be satisfied."

Looking back and forth between the two of them, he finally sighed from exasperation and muttered a curse underneath his breath. 

"Cause hospitals ain't safe."

Suddenly, both Beka and Rev understood. Beka tried to smother a smile. "Harper, I know that hospitals on earth were probably crap and more people went in then came back out, but the hospitals up here are pretty decent. Especially ones like the one we're going to be going to. They're clean, they have bright lights in them and the doctors and nurses are real professionals and they're all nice and they know what they're doing."

He stared at her suspiciously. "So they's all clean?"

"You could eat off those floors if you wanted to, I swear."

"And they don't yells at you and throw you out quicker than a rat when you can walk so there's more room for others?"

Beka blinked and carefully controlled her facial expression. "No, shorty. They never yell and they don't throw you out unless you ask to leave. They have plenty of beds for everyone."

Harper was nodding to himself and mulling this over. 

While he was thinking, Rev leaned over. "And don't forget that Dr. Minters will be in charge of the operation, and you know him and can trust him. Besides, Beka and I will be with you every step of the way, except during the actual operation. Trust me, you will never be alone. Either Dr. Minters or we will be with you at all times. There is absolutely nothing to be frightened about."

Harper glanced at the two of them, thinking and pushing things around in his mind, before he finally smiled and looked at Beka. 

"If it's okay with you, boss, I know what I want now."

Beka smiled. "And what's that?"

His eyes were shining again. "I want to go through with this. I want to have a port."

Beka narrowed her eyes slightly and stared at him hard, making sure that he wasn't just saying it because he thought it was what she wanted to hear. Finally, she relaxed and smiled. 

Looking at Rev, she grinned and threw up her hands. 

"Well, as my dad used to say: To hell with the risks and the nay-sayers. Let's do this then."

Database Records Archive: 96 (10085)

Specific Time: Two days later

It was finally here. The day of the operation. Dr. Minters had contacted Beka the day before and had told her to make her way to the hospital as soon as possible. He had the port ready and his medical team was standing by. All they needed was Harper. 

The tension and excitement was running high through my corridors. Beka was shaking so badly while flying that she gave up and engaged auto-pilot and let me handle things. Harper had been bouncing all over the place, a bundle of nervous pent up energy. Beka hadn't let him touch a drop of alcohol or Sparky for the past two days, and he had been living off of orange juice. Water was, as always, not an option. 

Rev too was worried, excited and anxious all at once. 

Finally, I arrived. I docked myself and pulled the docking clamps up and told Beka we were there. Her hands were shaking as she nervously grinned at Harper and Rev while she tried to tuck her gun properly into her holster. Beside her, Rev and Harper were fidgeting around too. They had all gotten dressed up for the occasion, or rather, as dressed up as my crew could possibly get. Anybody could tell it was an important occasion when my captain pins her hair up and wears dark brown leather pants instead of her usual pitch black ones. 

Rev had put on a clean, dark red robe for the occasion and Harper looked cleaner and more presentable than I had ever seen him. Beka had forced him to have two showers, right after the other, until he positively shone and then she'd made him clean his boots and toss his clothes into the washer before wearing them. He was wearing dark pants and a dark green shirt. Beka had said that the poor doctor would probably go blind if he wore his red/green/yellow striped shirt and his bright red cargo pants. There wasn't a speck of grease on him, and even his hair was clean and didn't have any gel in it. It still stuck out all over the place, but now it looked softer and even blonder under my dim corridor lights. It somehow made him look years younger. It made me wonder if putting that hair gel on for all these years had some hidden purpose behind it. 

I shook that thought out of my head when I saw that my crew was about to leave. 

I realized I couldn't just let them go without saying something. Quickly, I created a tiny virus in my communications grid and said goodbye to my crew in my own unique non-AI way.

Beka was just asking Rev if he Harper's ID disk with him and at the same time, was asking Harper if he had taken his IB shots. She wasn't taking any chances. 

While Harper scowled and nodded, a little alarm started ringing through my corridors. I pretended not to have noticed that I accidenly triggered it. 

Swearing, Beka spun around and she quickly ran into the cockpit and started punching around on the communication console. Harper had run over to a panel on the wall and had silenced the alarm. He looked down the corridor. "What's wrong, boss?"

Beka was frowning as she continued typing some commands. "It's some kind of virus. I nearly have a visual of it. Just wait a second…" When she punched another button, I quickly showed her my carefully prepared virus. The minute Beka saw it, her eyebrows flew up and she burst out laughing. 

Holding onto the chair, she nearly fell over as she clutched her side with one hand and laughed until tears came to her eyes.

"Harper! Rev! You've got to come and see this!" she choked out, still howling with laughter. 

Harper and Rev ran down the corridor, a frown of worry creasing their foreheads. Leaning past Beka, they stared at the screen. 

Momentarily, they stared at it, gaping in disbelief, before they finished reading it and burst out laughing just like Beka. 

As they stood there, laughing and nearly crying, I quietly erased the virus. My job was done. 

The virus had been a little text message. On it, I had left a tiny message:

"Good luck, Harper and make sure you come back in one piece. I need my engineer."

Still laughing, Beka glanced at her watch and swallowed her laughter. Wiping her eyes, she tried to control herself. "Come on, guys, we have to go."

With that, the rest of my crew put themselves back together, straightened their clothes and slowly made their way down the corridor. 

Just before he reached the airlock, Harper turned around and smiled around himself at me. Reaching out, he gently touched a pipe that ran past him. 

"Don't worry, Maru. I'll come back in one piece. And you take care of yourself in the mean time, my girl. I need my ship to stay in one piece too." He whispered, quiet laughter still in his voice.

Rev was already standing on the docking station platform and Beka had turned around from the airlock.

"Come on, shorty! Let's go! We're going to be late!" she called over. 

Running over to her, Harper was about to leap out of airlock when he turned to Beka. 

"Thanks, boss. I never said it before, but I mean it. Thanks. For everything."

Beka smiled at him, her eyes threatening to tear up. Gently, she wapped the side of his head. 

"Get a move on, shorty." She whispered. Hopping down, they both landed on the floor. While Rev pulled his robe on straight and fussed over Harper's shirt being straight, Beka locked my airlock and turned around. 

Walking together, they walked towards the docking station door. Quietly, I watched them go until they dropped off my external sensors. 

From then on, I had no control over the situation and I reverted to relying on my crew's own instincts and feelings to get them through whatever mess they landed in. 

Just like always. 

Since I'm me and I wasn't built with military like sensors and I don't have an AI or an avatar, I couldn't accompany my crew to the hospital and watch over them. But over the years, I've managed to piece together what happened that day and that night through little things my crew said here and there. Most of it comes from Harper telling Rommie about it and her then interfacing with me and discussing it. 

Apparently, Harper had never quite believed what Beka and Rev had said about hospitals until they stepped through the door. Harper couldn't stop gaping and staring around with wide eyes. He kept on asking Beka and Rev in loud whispers whether they were really seeing the same things that he was seeing. When he finally realized that it wasn't just a trick his mind was playing on him, he started running around like a little kid, touching trolleys and empty gurneys and running his fingers along the name plates on doors and the plastic chairs lining the corridors. Beka and Rev didn't care, even when the nurses gave them weird looks and patients stared at them like they were nuts. 

When they finally reached Dr. Minter's office, he came running out, smiling broadly and just a bundle of energy. Shaking all of their hands, including Harper's, he started excitedly jabbering on and on about the port he'd made and the fantastic medical team that was waiting for them. He only calmed down when he saw that Harper was edging away from him and closer to Beka. 

Then came the actual operation. 

Let's just say that things weren't as smooth and easy as everybody originally thought they were. 

Harper got strapped to a gurney and said goodbye to Rev and Beka and he got wheeled into the operation room and the doors swung shut behind him. 

Two minutes later, an agitated and pale nurse came running out to Beka, and frantically threw up her hands and said that Harper was trying to kill her. 

Ignoring her hysterics, Beka and Rev pushed past her and ran into the operating room, also ignoring the secretary's frantic yelling that no civilians were allowed in the operating room at any time. 

When they had run down the long hall and reached the right room, they just burst in and ran straight to Harper. 

Harper was cowering in a corner of the room, shaking and obviously terrified. Only Dr. Minters stood in front of him, crouching on the floor a few meters before him. When one of the nurses started moving forward, the doctor turned to her and snapped that she should stay back and not make the situation any worse. 

Seeing Beka standing there, the doctor slowly stood up and walked over to her. Apparently, Harper had gone nuts when they had lowered the mask for the anaesthetic over his face. He'd started hissing and swearing at them and had torn the mask out of their grasp. Spurned on by hysterical fear, he had managed to tear the restraints off his arms and had leapt off the bed and had hidden in the corner. 

Beka immediately went up to Harper and crouched in front of him. While the doctor hissed at everbody to stay back and for the security team which had arrived to get back to whatever they were doing, Beka ignored all of that and focused on Harper. 

Talking to him quietly and lightly, she coaxed him out of his fear until he realized who she was. When he had calmed down, Beka quietly asked him why he didn't like the mask. He shrugged and refused to answer. So Beka started guessing. Did the gas smell funny? Were the nurses being mean about it? To all of these questions, he shook his head. 

When Beka gave him a smile and told him he had to give her something more than that to work with, he drew in a shaky breath and mumbled that he didn't want anybody gagging him. He quietly muttered that he'd always hated gags and with gags always came a lot of pain and he wasn't going to let them hurt him. 

Beka immediately understood what was going on. Trying to make light of the situation, she quietly laughed and said that nobody wanted to hurt him. Quietly, she explained what the mask was for and what the gas would do and why. Then she finally asked him if he was okay with the mask being put on his face if it wasn't strapped on and if she and Rev stayed until he was out of it and the mask was removed. 

Thinking that over, his nervous eyes running around the room, he finally nodded. 

Pushing herself off the floor, Beka turned to Dr. Minters while Rev hurried forward and helped Harper back onto the gurney and quietly reattached the restraints, but loosely this time and talking to him quietly the whole time. When a nurse hurried forward to tighten the ones on his arm, Rev quietly told her that wasn't necessary. The nurse raised an eyebrow and demanded to know how the hell he would know what was necessary and wasn't. When Harper started getting scared again, Rev snarled at the nurse and she quickly backed off. 

Dr. Minters stepped forward with Beka and quietly told everybody around him to only step forward when he told them to. Taking the new mask an attendent handed him, he attached it to the clear gas tube and then handed it to Beka. Beka held it up for Harper to see and quietly told him she'd hand it to him and he should hold it over his mouth and nose and just breathe the gas in. It wouldn't hurt him but it would only make him feel sleepy. He'd then fall asleep and when he woke up, the operation would be done and her and Rev would be here to see him. 

With Rev standing on one side of him and making sure nobody went near him, and Beka on his other side, Harper finally relaxed. Taking the mask into his hand, he put it onto his mouth and nose. He tensed up when an attendent behind Rev moved, but Rev quietly told him it was alright and nobody was going to hurt him. 

It took a while, but the gas finally started overriding that constant alertness and paranoia which kept Harper running on pure adrenaline most of his life. Slowly, his eyes drifted shut and his hand limply fell to his side. Beka gently held the mask in place until the doctor nodded and told her that was enough. 

While Beka handed the mask to the doctor, Rev gently squeezed Harper's limp hand and whispered for the Divine to be with him and take care of him. Beka was about to leave, but then she leaned over Harper, gently kissed him on the cheek, smoothed a strand of his blond hair off his forehead and whispered for him to be tough and brave, just like he always was. 

Then they both turned and walked out of the operating room, ready to wait out the scheduled nineteen hour operation sitting in the hard plastic chairs in an empty corridor. 


	38. Chapter 38

The Diaries Chapter 38 

Author's Ramble: Hey folks, here are your next three chapters. I'll admit, I haven't been typing away like the good little fanfic author should. I've been doing more reading than writing (_Raven sighs sadly and gets ready to duck in case some people try throwing things at her_). Even my sister (my beta) yelled at me. 

Anyway, this next chapter's a little angsty. Sorry. I have quite a few Harper owies in there too. My apologies. (_Raven tries not to see the many people who grin and rub their hands together in glee_) The next two chapters are basically my pathetic attempts to mess around with cerebral technology. I made it up as I went along and personally had a blast writing it, but tell me if it bores you endlessly or if you love it. What you think will determine the contents of chapter 41. I can't believe I'm talking about chapter 41. Wasn't it just yesterday that I was putting up chapter 12? Oh, the good old days. I really have to get a life. One of these days. When this story's done. Maybe Paris's predictions will come true and this thing really won't be over until season three's done. Guess my best friend will remain my computer. *sigh* 

Okay, the rambling's done. Have fun reading. Tell me what you think and if the last two chapters bored you endlessly. 

Database Records Archive: 97 (10085)

Specific Time: Twenty-three hours later

The actual operation went off without a hitch. There were a few tiny crises when Harper started bleeding uncontrollably and the doctor had to undo about half an hours worth of work in order to be able to stop the bleeding. Later on, Harper's body temperature and vital signs suddenly dropped and the entire team franctially raced to keep Harper alive, but at the end, Harper was fine. 

They rolled him out of the operating room and brought him past Beka and Rev, who right away wanted to fuss over him, but the doctor kindly asked them not to touch him unless they absolutely had to. Since any unnecessary movement might cause some of the wires in Harper's neck and brain to pierce a blood vessel and bring about catastrophic results, the doctor ordered for Harper to be put into a shuttle and to be flown right into the docking station and up to my airlock. 

That done, a medical team opened my airlock with Beka's help and five security guys carefully lifted the gurney up and gently lowered it onto my corridor floors. Rolling it down the hall until they reached my little medical room, they brought the gurney inside. A few days before, Rev had taken the old cot out and now they pushed the gurney into the corner and secured it to the wall and floor. 

Thanking them, Beka showed everybody the way out, before she ran down the corridor again and nearly tripped over the doorframe in her hurry to get back to Harper. 

Rev was already in there, pouring over the after-care instructions which the doctor had left them. 

Beka rolled her eyes as her worried eyes glanced Harper over and made sure he was still breathing. 

"Rev, we've read over those notes half a million times. We could do this with our eyes closed."

Rev smiled absentmindly as he read. "I just want to make sure we didn't miss anything, that's all."

While Rev read, Beka started setting up the equipment the doctor had given them. Setting up the new heart monitor and respiration monitor and hooking up some funny device that read Harper's brain wave patterns, she rummaged through the huge package and pulled out vials of different colored liquids, small flexi's with instructions for each vial and weird looking cloths which the doctor insisted should be the only things touching the port for the entire first two months. 

Quietly working side by side to set everything up and turn the little medical room into a mini hospital, they wordlessly embraced their new responsibility, one which would take two months and five days and would stretch their nerves and hearts to their limits. 

Database Records Archive: Various (10085)

Specific Time: A collection of isolated events occuring during the next two months and five days

Even years later when the events of the operation and the recovery had all but been forgotten, Beka still couldn't quite say if she liked it better when Harper was unconscious, or rather, mindless, or when his mind and body were functioning together. 

Harper didn't wake up for the first three weeks. During these weeks, Beka and Rev exhausted themselves taking care of him. They took turns flying me, dealing with clients, buying groceries and paying bills, and spending hours upon hours sitting by Harper's bedside. 

The thin line between night and day which organic beings have set such an attachment to failed to mean anything to them. 

They took turns sitting with Harper for two hours, sleeping for half an hour, taking care of me and business for an hour and then starting the entire exhausting cycle over again. 

The days went on and on and weeks slowly ticked by without anybody ever noticing. Harper wasn't aware of the time which passed, nor of the stress and enormous responsibility he was putting onto Beka and Rev's shoulders. The wires and pieces of metal slowly integrated themselves into his system. Nerves grew over the dull metal and became entwined with glowing wires. Slowly, the long tube and the disk failed to be an attachment to him, but became a part of him, just like for cyborgs, a metal eye or arm becomes a part of them. If anybody tore it out, it would kill him instantly. 

While Harper lay motionless on the gurney, only breathing quietly and regularily, Beka and Rev were slowly walking towards their own graves. 

The constant strain of making sure Harper was alright and that nothing was going wrong, the long sleepless nights, the monotone life style they had adopted became a part of them just like the port became a part of Harper. 

The routine became so engrained into them that they woke up by themselves and no longer had to wake the other one up when it was their time to be on their feet again. Even though Rev—being a magog—could handle the involuntary insomnia and the destruction of his normal routine better than Beka, both of them looked like hell after the first two weeks. 

Their eyes looked dead and empty as they dragged themselves around my corridors, hardly speaking to each other and hardly aware of what their hands and feet were doing. Their minds became so dull with the lack of sleep that their eyes opened automatically, their feet walked them wherever they had to go and their hands did whatever they had to do. They checked Harper's vital sign monitors and noticed even the slightest changes without their conscious minds really being aware of it. They changed his clothes, cleaned his port and brushed his hair while their minds lay drugged in a state of permanent disarray, trapped between the waking world and the sleeping world. 

I'll be the first one to say that I was glad when Harper finally regained consciousness. For Harper's sake, I feel horrible for saying it, but for my captain and Rev's sake, I was glad. At least then they could take turns sleeping for slightly longer since Harper slowly adjusted to sleeping through the nights and being awake during the day. 

Because Andromeda, her AI highness has demanded it, I'll dig up some little data records just to prove to her that I wasn't exaggerating when I said those two months were tough on everyone.

Alright, let me dig for a minute

Data Records Archive: 98 (10085)

Specific Time: A few days after the operation

Running a hand through her limp hair, Beka yawned as she dragged her feet over the doorstep and stepped into the medical room. 

"Go catch a few winks, Rev. It's my turn." She mumbled. 

Nodding, Rev put down the cloth with which he had been gently cleaning Harper's port and he pushed himself up. Without a word—words required energy—he walked past her and slowly  made his way down the corridor.

Suppressing another yawn, Beka widened her eyes in an attempt to become more awake. When that failed, she turned to the counter behind her and poured herself a cup of coffee. The pot and the coffee machine were constantly on now and the caffeine ran through Beka's veins as permanently as adrenaline ran through Harper's. 

Stretching, she poured herself a cup and drained it. Setting the cup down, she sat down in the chair beside his bed. 

Reaching forward with a limp hand, she lightly stroked his cheek. "Well, shorty, you have a bit more color in those cheeks. That's good." Sighing, she turned to the monitors which Harper was hooked up to. "Alright, let's see….this one's looking good, your heart's doing its job…excellent…" she yawned again, but her eyes didn't leave the screens. "…respiration rate's looking good…brain fluctuations looking normal, or at least, as normal as they can be where you're concerned." She laughed quietly. 

Twisting around in the chair, she reached into a drawer, not even having to look at the labels on the drawer or concentrate on finding the right one. Pulling out a tube of something medical that smelled extremely strong, she squeezed some of it out onto the rag Rev had put down beside Harper. 

Humming to herself and quietly talking to Harper, she gently held his head in place to prevent it from moving and started lightly rubbing the cloth along the edges of the port. She bit her lip when she saw how swollen and bruised the skin surrouding the port still was. Dark bruises, and red and livid looking swollen skin surrounded the dull metal port, whose sharp edges dug into the abused skin with no consideration. Gently, she dabbed at the skin. The doctor had said in his notes that it would take about three months until the area would look normal again, but for the rest of his life, that part of him would be extremely sensitive to pain and heat and anything else. It's one of the main reasons people with cerebral ports hate it when other people touch their ports, since they mostly graze that sensitive, tender skin which never truly heals. 

After cleaning the metal disk and the skin it dug into, Beka tossed the cloth behind her. 

"Alright, shorty. It's been a couple of days since the big day, and between you and me, you need a shower, my dear. Now, I know you resent showers and that you hate it when people touch, never mind take off your clothes, but in this case, I hope you understand that there's no other way we can go about it. Either I let you lie there for the next two months, wasting away in a stinky, dirty little pile, or I can clean you. Now, I know you'd scoff at that and tell me to mind my own business, but in this case, your business is my business. So, since I'm your captain and you couldn't voice your own opinion over it even if you wanted to, you're getting a shower. Or at least, a sponge bath."

While she was quietly talking to him, she was taking off his clothes, and tossing them into a pile by the door. She frowned at the pile. 

"Remind me to wash those, okay?"

Taking off Harper's clothes was such a painstakingly slow process that I wouldn't have blamed her if she had just decided to let Harper stay there like that, but of course, this is my captain we're talking about. 

His pants were no problem. It was his shirt that was the problem. She had to slowly tug it over his head and pull it off, trying not to move his head and neck even the tiniest fraction of an inch. 

This was why she didn't have time to look at Harper while she was pulling his shirt off and tossing into the pile. 

It was only when she turned back around, hair hanging in limp strands around her sallow face, her tired eyes rimmed with dark circles, that she saw. 

Because she wasn't expecting it, the shock hit her worse than it normally would have. 

Gasping, her hands flew up to her mouth, her eyes widened with horror and she leapt back until she was cowering against the wall, staring at Harper. 

I knew this day would come. I knew. Back on that day two years ago when I had seen Harper having his first shower and delousing himself, I knew that this day would come. The horrible scars Harper hid under hoards of baggy clothes couldn't stay hidden forever. He had always been careful. He had never taken his shirt off around Beka or Rev, and only changed and showered in the bathroom. Beka had always thought it was peculiar, but had shrugged it off as one of his weird habits. 

But now, he couldn't hide anymore. The only part of himself and his past which Seamus Harper has ever been ashamed of now lay open and exposed. 

Not understanding what she was seeing, Beka was staring at Harper as if he was some kind of monster. Gasping for breath, horrified sounds coming from her, she was shaking as she forced her hands from her mouth. 

"Rev!" she cried, her voice coming out as a strangled scream. Moments later, Rev threw himself out of bed and came running over to her, his robe and medallion flying over his shoulder.

As soon as he stepped through the door, his eyes landed on Beka.

"Rebecca! Are you alright? What on earth is the matter? Tell me quickly!"

Shaking her head and not being able to say a word and tear her eyes off of Harper's still form, she pointed a shaky finger at him. 

It was then that Rev saw. For a moment, he himself was confused. Then shock clutched him. Jumping back slightly, he uttered a small oath—one of the few and only times in his life that Reverend Behemial Far Traveller swore. 

But then, understanding and horror replaced the shock in his eyes. His eyebrows creasing with worry, he stepped towards Harper and stood beside him, looking him over. 

The pity in his eyes was unbearable. 

Realizing that whatever she was seeing wasn't some illusion, the shock gradually wore off her and Beka stepped up beside Rev, staring at Harper. 

Finally, she realized what she ws seeing. "They're scars, Rev. All of them."

Rev nodded, his eyes skimming over Harper's chest and stomach. 

Beka was staring at them, with horror and confusion in her eyes. "Rev what happened to him?" she whispered. I don't think she had the strength to do much more than whisper.

Rev was still frowning over them. He pointed at the long scar which started at Harper's left shoulder and ran diagonally across his chest and ended just above his navel. The raw ridges of tissue and the dark, livid color of it made it look just as bad as when I had seen it that first time two years ago. 

"This one looks like it might have been a blade of some sort, but it's too brutal of a cut to have been a blade. A blade would have made a cleaner cut." He muttered to himself. 

Beka scowled. "Well then what?"

Rev bit his lip as he thought it over. Suddenly, something seemed to occur to him and a darkness seemed to descend onto his face.

"A bone blade."

Beka turned and stared at Rev. "A bone blade? A Nietzschean bone blade?"

Rev glanced at her. "Rebecca, I don't think I need to remind you that the Nietzscheans on earth were no sweethearts and saints."

Rev turned back to Harper and leaned down to look at the scar which ran along that one of his ribs. Rev took in the ridged tissue edges, the burnt flesh and the slightly crooked bone beneath it. Grabbing a medical scanner from the counter behind him, he scanned the rib and punched around on the scanner. He frowned at the data the little device gave him. 

"Somebody broke this rib. I don't know when or why or how, but whoever tried to reset it didn't set it straight."

Beka stared at him. "Rev, resetting broken ribs doesn't leave a horrendous looking scar like that."

"No, but in a place with no medical facilities where you reset bones with knives and your fingers, it's necessary to burn the wound closed to prevent an enormous amount of blood loss. I don't know who repaired this rib for him, but whoever it was, they did a good enough job considering the circumstances."

He was still frowning at it. "As soon as Harper is past this, I'll see if I can find a good surgeon. He can't keep on running around with a half broken rib. It's dangerous."

Beka hadn't heard that last part. She was staring at Harper. She swallowed hard and set her jaw. 

"Rev, can we turn him over?"

Rev looked at her. He understood. If they had come so far and pried so far into dark secrets which Harper had kept hidden from them for so long, they might as well get it all out into the open. 

Taking a small device out of the enormous package of equipment Dr.Minters had left us, Rev went up to Harper's head and attached the little vice to his head and shoulders and secured it. It would ensure that when Harper was turned from side to side, his head and neck would remain immobilized. 

Giving Beka a nod, they both gently took Harper's arms and turned him over to his side. 

Gasping again, Beka's hands recoiled when she saw his back. Backing up a few steps, she stared at his back, horror filling her eyes. 

Countless scars criss crossed his back, some white and old, and some still livid and red. They layered on top of each other and I could barely see an inch of untouched, unabused skin on his back. 

Tears brimmed Beka's eyelids and even Rev looked close to tears as they looked at the horrifying remainders of years of torture and pain. 

Beka swallowed and tried to find her voice. "Rev, who—who—who would do this?" she whispered. 

Rev didn't answer her obvious question and didn't tear his sad eyes off Harper. 

Gently, Rev rolled Harper back onto his back and brushed a strand of blond hair off his forehead. 

A single tear rolled down his face. "May the Divine one day bring justice upon the beasts who did this." He whispered, before turning and shuffling out of the room. 

Beka slowly sat back down in her chair, shaking from pent up anger and pity. 

Finally, she couldn't suppress it anymore, and she collapsed in a flood of angry, sorrowful tears and sobs. 

Clutching one of Harper's hands in her own, she pressed it to her cheek, her tears rolling down her face and dripping onto the white bed sheets. 

"I'm so sorry, Seamus. I'm so sorry." She whispered over and over again. It's at rare times like these that I'm reminded how strong Seamus Harper really is. After a life time of brutal abuse, pain and fear, he can still laugh and hope and believe that life is still worth living. 

When Beka's tears had finally run out and her sobs had quietened, she regained control of herself again. Turning around, she got a few clean cloths and a bucket of soapy water. Rolling her sleeves up, she dipped a cloth into the warm water and wrung it out. Leaning over Harper, she gently started washing him. At first, she avoided the scars, but then gently dabbed them clean. 

When she was done with his front, she rolled him over and tenderly and gently washed his back. As she quietly worked, her hands proved what she had always promised Harper. Not in words, but with her actions. 

She'd never hurt him. Not like that and not in any way. She'd never hurt him. He was safe here. 

And, when she could,—when he would let her,—she'd try to wash away the pain and fear he had suffered with gentleness and kindness, just like she was doing now. 

Database Records Archive: 99 (10085)

Specific Time: Three weeks and five days after the operation

Beka has taken to not even leaving the medical room when it's her turn to sleep. Her and Rev had dragged the cot back into the tiny room and had somehow managed to push and tug it into a corner between Harper's heart rate monitor, the recycling chute in my wall and the chest of drawers. I've been on constant auto-pilot for about five days now. I'm starting to get a little worried. The course Beka set me on is going to head us right into an asteriod field, and we all know how adept I am at navigating myself through one of those. But I'll warn Beka ahead of time. Right now, she had more to worry about than something that I would ram into in about 2.3 days. 

Harper has started bleeding. Badly.

It was Rev's turn to watch. Beka had just stumbled over to the cot and had fallen onto it, already fast asleep before she even hit the crumpled blankets. Curling up, her limp hair framing her pale face, she wasn't even aware that she was still fully clothed including her boots. 

Rev was humming softly to himself as he skimmed over Harper's monitors, nodded to himself and turned around to fill a hypospray with some antibiotics. 

While his back was turned, Harper suddenly twitched. I quickly ran a scan on him. There appeared to be nothing wrong. For a moment, I was thrilled that maybe Harper's mind and body were starting to connect again. 

But in a second, that good mood evaporated. Doing a more detailed scan, I realized that one of the tiny wires from the port had pierced a small vein in Harper's neck. The vein was close to the surface of his skin so thankfully, I could detect no internal bleeding. The blood slowly trickled along the port and slithered out between the metal disk and the bruised, swollen skin in which it was embedded. The red liquid slowly slid along the disk before dripping down Harper's neck and onto the bedsheets he was lying on. 

Detecting the changes, one of my monitors started beeping, alerting my crew to the change. 

Immediately, Rev whipped around, nearly sending the hypospray flying through the air. 

His eyes widened when he saw the bleeding. 

Muttering something under his breath, he quickly grabbed a cloth from beside him. Bending down beside the bed so he could look at the blood more closely, he quickly glanced at the cot. 

"Beka! Wake up!"

Immediately, Beka woke up, her eyes snapping open despite the dark bruises surrounding them and the fatigue which clouded them. Years of waking up from pure instinct when Harper needed her had trained her to never let her instincts sleep and to always let the smallest noise bring her back to alertness. Something else she had picked up from Harper. 

Pushing herself up and shoving strands of her blond hair behind her ear, she immediately got up and stumbled to Rev's side. 

Seeing the blood, she swore and immediately, all thoughts of sleep vanished from her tired mind. 

"Shit! He's bleeding! Rev, get me the clamp! We can't risk moving his neck," 

Rev grabbed the small clamp from the counter behind him. Turning around, he moved to Harper's head and slowly started attaching it to his head and shoulders. Beka was holding Harper as still as possible, but her hands were shaking so badly that she could barely keep him immobile. Seeing her shaking hands and her dull, panicked eyes, Rev attached the vice and then grabbed Beka's hands in his own. 

"Beka, calm down. It's going to be alright—"

"Alright? What the hell is wrong with you? He might bleed to death! Let go of me, damn it! We have to stop the bleeding."

Rev didn't let go and held her angry, frantic gaze. "You can't help him one bit if you're panicking and shaking like this. It'll only do him more harm than good."

Seeing the sense in that, she clenched her jaw, briefly closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. Taking a deep breath, she slowly drew her hands out of his grasp and then grabbed the cloth from the counter. 

Gently pressing it to Harper's neck, she glanced at Rev and mumbled that he should inject Harper with the nanobots that would help clot the bleeding from within. 

Nodding, Rev dialed in the right dosage and gently pressed it to Harper's neck on the other side. 

Then they waited. While Beka kept on pressing the cloth against his neck and soaking up the blood which seeped out from behind the port, Rev hovered over Harper with a scanner. 

Finally, the bleeding started slowing down. The nanobots were doing their job. 

When Rev quietly told her this, Beka sighed with relief and she calmed down. 

After a few more minutes, Rev put the scanner down and gently tugged the blood soaked cloth out of Beka's hands. Beka grabbed for the cloth.

"What the hell are you doing? I need that cloth!"

Rev glanced at her as he quietly tossed the cloth into the recycling chute. 

"Beka, the bleeding has stopped. He's alright now."

Beka stared at him, her dazed and tired mind being too slow to process the notion that the danger was over. Finally, she nodded, shaking slightly. 

"Oh. Okay then. Sorry." She whispered, her voice hollow sounding. She glanced at Harper one last time, making sure the bleeding really did stop. Leaning over, she ran a shaking finger down his cheek. 

Rev smiled at her gently. "He's alright now, Beka. I'll take care of him. Get some more sleep."

Nodding, she slowly got up and stumbled over to the cot. Falling onto it, she curled up and immediately fell back asleep, her hair lying in tangled knots around her face and her hands still covered with Harper's blood. 

Rev quietly picked up another hypospray from behind him and filled it with a sleeping drought. Going to the cot, he quietly pressed it to Beka's neck. She stirred for a moment and muttered something, but before she could wake up and realize what was going on, the drug seeped into her mind and she succumbed to the deep, dreamless sleep which her body so badly craved. 

Putting the hypospray back down, Rev gathered his robe around himself and sat down beside Harper again. Taking the vice off of him, he quietly put it down and then checked the monitors one more time before leaning back in the chair. 

Reaching over, he gently took one of Harper's hands and held it in his own. Yawning, he shook his head to keep his own tired mind from taking over. He couldn't fall asleep. 

He didn't only have Harper to take care of now. 


	39. Chapter 39

The Diaries 

Chapter 39

Database Records Archive: 100 (10085)

Specific Time: A month and two days after the operation

Harper is finally starting to regain consciousness. His mind has finally figured out how to work with the port and is starting to slowly come back to control the rest of his body. It's a slow process, but his mind has won the battle. 

At first, there were only tiny changes, barely receptable to the naked eye, but vast improvements for people such as Rev and Beka who had been watching Harper's every move and breath with hawk eyes for the past month. 

For the first few days, all I could pick up were little twitches here and there. Tiny muscles in his face, arms and legs slowly starting to pick up fragments of instructions his mind was sending over the huge rift which it was slowly starting to navigate across. 

A finger would curl slightly and then fall limply back to the blankets. A muscle in his cheek would twitch. His eyebrows would suddenly frown slightly and then go limp and expressionless again. 

Even though these tiny movements might have been deemed meaningless, to Rev, Beka and me, they were a sign of relief and hope. Relief that Harper's recovery was nearly in it's second stage, and hope that Harper would come out of this in one piece, even thought the doctor had always been firm with his predictions that Harper might never wake up or wake up brain damaged. Neither of these seemed to be the case. 

After a few days, these tiny movements started increasing, as Harper's mind started re-learning what nerves it controlled how and where. 

A tiny groan would escape his lips. A small frown would flicker across his face. His feet would kick at the blanket he was lying under. His hand would curl up and then relax again. 

Beka and Rev grew more alive as they watched him. They forgot about their fatigue and monotone lives and spent all their time by Harper's side, encouraging him and coaxing him back to the world of the living. 

The doctor had been delighted to hear about Harper's progress and had said that Harper's mind would recognize their voices if it picked it up and hopefully, his mind would pull his body towards their voices and he would find his way to consciousness. 

So Rev and Beka talked to him. They told him jokes, chattered about business, his monitor results and the space I was drifting through. They whispered, laughed and muttered about their day as they made their throats raw trying to draw Harper back to them. 

Then, after three days of talking and coaxing and seeing Harper grow more and more alive before their eyes, Harper finally opened his eyes. 

It happened quite suddenly. Rev was sitting on the cot, reading a book and Beka was standing up by the drawers, filling hyposprays with Harper's vitamin doses and antibiotics. She was quietly talking to him while she did it, telling him she knew how much he hated being fussed over, but vitamins were a must and even the doctor said they were necessary. 

Suddenly, Harper's eyes flew open. It was as if his mind had been playing around with his body, experimenting to see what would happen if it messed around with this nerve or that, and instead of just making his elbow twitch or his eyebrows frown, his mind had opened his eyes. 

He lay there and for all the world looked exactly the same as he always did, with the only exception being that his eyes were open and he was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes distant and blank. 

Beka was still talking to him as she prepared the hypos. "So you see, shorty, you have no say in it whatsoever. You're getting the vitamins not only because the doc said so, but because I said so. But hey, look at the bright side. At least you don't have to chew them." With that, she turned around, tossing a strand of her hair over her ear, and frowning as she checked the hypo over. 

Bending down beside Harper, she was about to press the hypospray to his neck when she saw that his eyes were open. 

Gasping, she dropped the hypo and leapt back, her eyes wide from the shock. 

Right away, Rev glanced up. Tossing his book aside, he got up. "Rebecca! What is it? Are you alright?"

Beka was staring at Harper with wide eyes. She glanced at Rev and nodded at Harper. 

"His eyes, Rev. They're open. His eyes are open." She whispered. 

Rev's own eyes widened and he quickly went over to Beka and leaned over. Seeing that Harper's eyes were indeed open, he grabbed a scanner from behind Beka. Running it over Harper a few times, Rev nodded. 

"His neural pathways are reconnecting to the rest of his body slowly but surely." A tired smile spread across the Reverend's face. Turning to Beka, he gently squeezed her arm. "He's slowly getting there."

Beka gripped the sides of the gurney as she stared at Harper. Rev slowly moved his hand in front of Harper's face, waiting to detect a reaction. Nothing happened. Harper continued staring up at the ceiling, not even blinking. 

Beka bit her lip. "Come on, shorty. Work with us here. I told you a million times, we can't do it on our own. You have to do your part too." She whispered. When he still didn't respond, Beka gently reached out and poked him in the side. Not enough to move him, but enough to get a reaction from him. 

He blinked. Beka nearly burst into tears when she saw it. A tired smiled stretched across her pale, weary face as she poked him again and watched as he blinked again. 

When Rev ran his hand slowly over Harper's eyes, Beka watched as Harper blinked again and his eyes moved slightly. 

Beka gripped Rev's arm. "He's doing it, Rev. He's really doing it." She whispered. 

Rev nodded, looking down at Harper with relieved tears brimming his eyelids. "He's going to make it, Beka."

Database Records Archive: 101 (10085)

Specific Time: The next day

The next morning, Harper's eyes were moving around and he could follow the path of large objects as they passed over him. His blinking was erratic and irregular, but the doctor said that Harper would learn how to set his blinking into its regular involuntary pattern once he was stronger.

After a few minutes of staring around and blinking at Rev, Beka or the scanner above him, he'd close his eyes and his mind would rest. In this way, his mind was slowly re-learning how to sleep. 

Harper's recovery was horrifyingly slow. At first, Beka had been afraid that Harper would have to re-learn everything he had known, even the basics, but the doctor had reassured them that Harper's memory hadn't been erased, but it was simply shoved into a forgotten corner in his mind. The port and his mind would work together to find it again and it was only a matter of time. 

Database Records Archive: 102 (10085)

Specific Time: A week later

Harper can once again be deemed as conscious. Andromeda raises her eyebrows and says that she has seen a great many conscious people and that the deathly pale, shallow breathing person lying on the gurney with half a million tubes in his arms was not what she would deem as healthy. 

I resist the urge to stick my docking clamps out at her. I never said Harper was ready to go surfing. I simply said he was conscious. There's a difference.

From the vitamin doses, antibiotics and the other assortments of different chemicals and medicines Beka and Rev pumped into him, his body was slowly regaining its strength. 

He'd open his eyes for much longer periods and he could recognize Beka and Rev and the scanner when they passed by him. Later on, he even started moving around more. At first, Beka had gotten nervous that he'd snap the metal in his neck or tear a wire out of place, but the doctor told her not to worry. The port was made out of extremely malleable metal, and so were the wires. They were flexible enough to allow Harper to twist his neck this way and that, but they were strong enough that it would take an enormous amount of brutal force to rip the wires out of the nerves and muscle they had grown a part of. 

He'd follow Beka and Rev around the tiny room when they went to get something and he'd even smile a little when Beka poked him in the side by his ribs where he was ticklish. 

He'd curl himself up into a little ball at times, pulling his knees up to his chest and lying on his side. He'd even stretch a little when his back had gotten a little stiff. He'd yawn, sigh and mumbled incoherent snatches of things to himself. 

He even started talking again. It's hard to imagine my exuberant and loudmouth engineer not talking for days at a time, but I'm telling you, Andromeda, it's terrifying. No matter how badly you want the kid to shut up at times, it's terrifying when he actually does. The silence reminded me of the way he had been years before when he had first come onboard. But this time, fear wasn't what was keeping him from talking. It was the simply fact that he found no need for it. It was like his mind had forgotten his ability to talk. 

When Rev had contacted the doctor about it, Dr.Minters had said it was a common side-effect and all they could do was talk to him as much as possible and ask him questions and coax him into answering. 

At first, Harper's progress was so slow that Beka feared he'd never be the same as before, but he slowly came out of his shell. 

Beka or Rev would patiently sit beside him and quietly tell him about their day. Then they'd ask him how he was doing. He'd just shrug that age old shrug or he'd just smile at them. On the bad days, he'd turn his back to them and close his eyes. 

But neither Beka nor Rev gave up. They kept on talking to him. They told him jokes and laughed over them even when they weren't even funny in the hopes that Harper would mimic them. At first, he'd just frown at them and turn away in confusion, but later on, he'd smile and laugh quietly, not understanding why he was laughing but liking the encouragement he got whenever he copied them. 

The questions brought about even slower results. They'd ask him what their names were and what his name was. What his favourite drink was. What he wanted to do once he was up and about. What CD he wanted to listen to. If he wanted Rev to read to him. 

He'd either blink at them and stare at them silently, or he'd smile insecurely, not sure what they wanted of him. 

But still, my crew didn't give up. They'd point at him and say that his name was Harper and then they'd ask him what their names were. Harper would blink and stare at them, frowning as if he thought they were idiots for not knowing their own names. But he wouldn't answer them. There were a few times when Beka nearly lost her patience and she was ready to grab Harper and shake him until he started talking, but she always restrained herself. 

She'd just sigh and then start over, asking him things and telling him jokes and stories.

The huge breakthrough came about quite suddenly. Beka was standing with her back to him preparing one of his vitamin doses and skimming over an FTA report at the same time. She was quietly talking to Harper, telling him for the millionth time how the old captain had come up with the nickname 'Rocket' for her. 

"—so there I was, barely five years old, sitting in the piloting chair and yanking the controls this way and that." Beka shook her head ruefully as she laughed. Harper was quietly curled up on his side, listening to her voice while patiently watching her preparing his vitamin doses. Asides from blinking and following her around with his eyes, he didn't move. He had heard this story a million times, but he didn't seem to be complaining. "I nearly rammed my poor baby into an asteroid. My dad and Vex came running down the corridor and reached over and scooped me out of the seat. Of course I started fussing, saying that I knew how to fly and that I was big enough. You know, I always thought my dad would be furious, but he wasn't. While Vex got the Maru out of harm's way, my dad gave me a hug and laughed. You know what he called me?"

Fiddling around with a loose thread from the blanket he was lying on, Harper nodded quietly.

"R-Rocket," He whispered in a hoarse, tiny voice. I nearly shorted out my AG field generator. Harper had said something! Harper had actually said something!

Beka froze and nearly dropped the hypospray. Whipping around, she stared down at Harper.

"What did you just say?" she whispered. 

Harper licked his dry lips and blinked up at her. Drawing in a deep breath, he whispered the words again, his voice hoarse and raspy due to not having been used for more than a month. 

"Your dad called ya Rocket," he whispered before coughing slightly. 

Beka crouched down beside him, tears shimmering in her eyes. Hoarsely, she called down the corridor for Rev to come. Turning back to Harper, she nodded. 

"That's right. He called me 'Rocket'. And what do people call you?" she asked, her voice quiet and gentle.

Harper frowned in confusion and shifted around slightly. Beka smiled. 

"I know what you're thinking. You think I'm nuts cause of course I know your name, silly. But I want to hear it from you. What's your name?"

Still frowning, Harper stared at her and then took another deep breath. The amount of effort and concentration it took for him to say a single word was enormous.

"Harper. People calls me Harper," he whispered. His eyes darted around and then he quickly looked back at Beka as if he had just remembered something. "But you calls me shorty, cause I'm short."

Beka laughed quietly, tears choking her laughter. She nodded. "That's right, shorty. You're Harper. Now, what's my name?"

He frowned at her again for the stupidity of the question, but then decided to along with it. 

"You's Beka. But I calls you boss. It ain't always proper to calls yer captain their first name, but you's always hated being called captain an' m'm, so I calls you boss," he whispered in a barely audible voice. 

Just then, Rev came running in. He skid to a halt as he heard the last snatches of Harper's quiet words. His eyes widening and a relieved smile lighting up his tired face, he crouched down beside Harper. 

"Hello there, Master Harper. I heard you're talking today. That's fantastic. May I ask how you feel?"

Harper shifted his head slightly and stared at Rev. He gave him a tiny smile but that wavered quickly. He was getting tired. The effort it took for him to concentrate on them, listen to them, understand them and formulate a response and actually say it was taxing. It's amazing how much effort sentient beings put into even their smallest duties. It's a wonder they don't sleep more than they normally do. Personally, I would be so exhausted from just talking, walking and living a day in their lives that I'd sleep for a year if I could. 

Licking his lips again, he took another deep breath. "My head feels kinda heavy," he admitted quietly.

Beka smiled. "It should, shorty. You've got a hunk of metal and wires in it now. You're going to have to learn how to walk without falling flat on your face."

Harper smiled at that and chuckled quietly, but the effort the short conversation had taken from him was starting to appear obvious. He was more pale than he had been before talking and his tired eyes started dropping shut. Without another word, he curled up and fell asleep, his eyes drifting shut. 

Beka reached over and gently ran a hand through his soft blond spikes which stuck out wildly all over the place even though they had been crushed by a pillow for weeks. 

Being careful not to wake him, Rev tugged the blanket around him and then checked his monitors. When Beka moved past him to go back to preparing Harper's vitamin hypos, they exchanged quiet, proud smiles. 

Harper would come out of this in one piece. Just like he always did. 

Database Records Archive: 103 (10085)

Specific Time: Two weeks later

Harper is finally back to his normal talkative self. His mind has finally remembered how to do everything. He answers questions, laughs, swears and scowls when Beka fusses over him too much and he's been complaining about his vitamin doses and begging for Sparkys. Rev had said he doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse that he's returned to normal, but to him personally, he'll take the talking, scowling and tough attitude Harper anyday over the sullen, quiet one who hid behind his protective shell. 

He's even started sitting up and fiddling around with scanners and other little gizmos Beka brings him. He's gotten up to walk around a few times, but both times his legs were so weak that he nearly collapsed and Beka and Rev had to hold him up and gently drag him back to bed and help him lie down. 

The doctor had said that the weeks of inactivity wouldn't have been kind to the rest of his body, so if Harper ever hoped to run around and do the things he normally did, he'd have to make himself stronger. 

So Rev and Beka had thrown themselves into making Harper stronger. 

Eating and drinking normally was the first thing they had to tackle. Harper's body had gotten so accustomed to being fed intravenously that the first time he swallowed a mouthful of orange juice, he gagged and threw it up. He had been sitting up against the raised gurney, but his body had been thrown forward when he had gagged. His stomach resented the strange intrusion and made it violently known. Beka held him up from where she was sitting on the bed beside him as he gagged and heaved it back up. Cleaning him up, she held the glass up and told him to try one more time. Taking a tiny sip, he tried to swallow it, but again, the violent reching started and he spat half of it out and threw up the other half. Gasping for breath, he let himself fall back against the bed, exhausted, pale and angry. Beka just wiped him up and then quietly told him to try one more time. When he just glared at her and told her to shove the glass up her ass and leave him alone, Beka raised an eyebrow and said that no amount of swearing and nasty attitude would help him. If he was going to get healthy and stronger, he had force himself not to give up. Unless of course, he wanted to starve to death. In that case, he could lie there and sulk and swear all he wanted. 

Sighing and scowling at her, Harper swallowed slowly and carefully before leaning forward and mumbling that he'd try it one more time. 

The doctor had said that trying it with water would bring about faster results, but Beka and Rev had just smiled sadly and said that water was out of the question. The doctor had frowned but hadn't asked why. I doubt neither Beka nor Rev had been looking forward to explaining it. Beka had made the attempt to get Harper to drink water, but after he glared at her and knocked the glass out of her hands, she decided that it wasn't worth it. Even after years of living in space amongst spacers, Harper still couldn't force himself to drink water. That little voice within him which screamed at him that it wasn't save and dragged up hundreds of bad memories associated with drinking filthy, garbage infested water never let him touch water. As I said before, drinking water is one of the only things Harper never got over and never adjusted to. I doubt he ever will.

Rev was the one who took it upon himself to get Harper back onto eating solid food and digesting it like a normal person. He patiently sat by his bedside and fed him tiny mouthfuls of baby food—which Harper referred to as predigested paste. It really did taste like rotten fruit, but Harper was never one to be picky about the food he was eating. It was only when his body violently heaved it back up and made him gag endlessly on nothing for ten minutes afterwards, that Harper got sick and tired of it. So Rev mixed in sugar and other little additives into it to make it taste a little better. It seemed to take forever, but finally, Harper could drink tiny sips of orange juice and Sparky without it coming right back up, and he could swallow tiny mouthfuls of food and chew them and swallow them without bending over and succumbing to nausea.

Slowly but surely he improved, until finally Rev pulled the intravenous needles out of his arm and said that now Harper was ready to eat like a normal being again. 

When Rev had asked him what he would want to eat if he could eat anything in the universe, Harper had right away said raw cookie dough. Rev's eyebrows had flown up, but Beka just chuckled when she heard it. But her laughter quickly tapered off when she realized that the raw dough wouldn't be good for Harper's still sensitive and picky stomach. She finally hammered a compromise into his head that she'd bake them and then he could eat as many of them as he wanted. 

Exercise was something else that was essential. Harper had never been a particularily strong person, nor a healthy person, but the weeks of not moving and wasting away hadn't been kind to him. He'd lost so much weight that Beka nearly cried when she ran a scan on him. He hadn't only lost the tiny amount of fat which he had gained over the years of Beka and Rev shoving food down his throat and fattening him up, but he had lost a lost of muscle too. 

Not having a gym on me or having any exercise equipment, my crew used their imaginations to come up with creative ways to get Harper in shape without killing him. 

Beka arm wrestled with him and Rev played catch with him, throwing a scanner or an empty hypo or anything else which was within grabbing distance back and forth. When he was strong enough to walk around, Beka made him run up and down the corridors while they played what I believe Beka referred to as 'piggy in the middle'. Andromeda, I'll explain later. 

Later on, the ladders in engineering started coming into good use as Harper scrambled up and down them getting things and putting them back and checking on various things which Beka swore were malfunctioning. 

Harper went along with it for the most part until he was tired or his legs gave up on him and he fell over. At these times, he'd get so frustrated with himself that he'd viciously lash out at Beka or Rev who would hurry to his side to help him. He'd snap at them not to touch him and he'd lean against a wall, hugging his knees to his chest, glaring angrily at the wall in front of him. Instead of leaving him, Beka and Rev simply sat down beside him.They didn't speak, but quietly waited until he had his strength back and his anger had evaporated. 

However, over the weeks of yelling, heartache, and angry tears, Harper slowly got his strength back. Pretty soon, he was scampering around like he always had been, although he still tired easily and was a lot more pale then he usually was. 

I'm also glad to report that Beka and Rev were also getting their strength back. Harper slept through most nights now and Beka and Rev let the monitors watch him while they caught up on some much needed sleep. They started eating regularily again and went about doing the things they had neglected doing over the past few weeks. 

Rev read and answered the huge bulk of letters which had arrived for him and had been cluttering up my receiving database for weeks. Beka took me off auto-pilot and flew me herself and we actually managed to snag a few business deals here and there. Life was slowly moving on. 

Database Records Archive: 104 (10085)

Specific Time: Three days later

I hate to ruin the good mood I created, but the story of Harper's cerebral port doesn't end quite so happily. After all, now that Harper's body was used to it, his mind would have to accept it as well. 

This proved to be easier said than done. 

Harper's mind was aware of the port at first. It just treated it like an additional part of his brain and had accepted it no questions asked. Now that Harper was moving around and back in the world of the living, his mind suddenly seemed to have an identity crisis where the port was concerned and decided to get rid of it. 

Unfortunately, when you want to get rid of something that's embedded in your skin, nerves and muscle, it can't just be thrown out. Stubborn as hell, his mind refused to accept it and promptly started violently trying to get rid of the strange piece of metal which had become a part of it. 

The pain would come in waves. Harper would be sitting up in bed, tinkering away at something or he'd be walking down the corridor or eating at the table, and all of a sudden, he'd hiss in pain and his hand would fly up to his port. He'd double over, clutching at his neck, grimacing in pain. 

Sometimes, the pain would be sudden and quick. Harper described it as a burning sensation in his neck as if somebody had suddenly stuck a match into his neck. The burning pain would last for only seconds. He'd hiss and gasp and double over, clutching his neck. His eyes squeezed shut, he wouldn't hear the frantic, worried voice of Beka and Rev as they tried getting him to tell them what was wrong. 

His breath coming out in hisses from between clenched teeth, he'd stay frozen and curled up until the pain subsided on its own or until Rev or Beka ran for a pain-killer and injected him with it. 

Other times, the pain would plague him for hours and no amount of drugs would make it easier on him. At these times, Harper said that it felt like somebody was trying to rip his neck in half and his mind was on fire. 

He'd curl up on the floor or on his bed, clutching his neck and wheezing from the pain. Squeezing his eyes shut, he'd rock back and forth, hissing and swearing under his breath as he bit his lip so hard that it bled. He'd scream at and flinch away from anybody who tried to touch him. If the pain got worse, tears would squeeze out from beneath his tightly shut eyelids and would pour down his pale, trembling face. He'd shake violently as he'd moan quietly from the pain. When it wouldn't go away or stop, he'd loose that careful self-control he always kept on himself when faced with pain. He'd start sobbing and crying, while screaming and pleading with Beka and Rev to do something and make the pain stop. 

None of us could do anything to make it more bearable for him. Rev tried giving him more painkillers, but Harper's body resented them and made him start gagging and throwing up anything he had eaten over the past day, which only agitated Harper more and scared him. 

It wasn't so much the pain that scared him, it was not knowing what was going on. Not having the answers for him, Beka contacted the doctor and asked him what the hell was going on. The doctor quietly said that Harper's body had accepted the implant, while his mind hadn't and it would simply take a few days until his mind accepted it and learned to continue working with it cooperatively. When Beka demanded to know what they could give him to ease the pain for him, the doctor smiled sadly and said it would be over fastest if they just let Harper suffer through it. Rev had remarked that that sounded unusually cruel. The doctor gave him a sad smile and said that this was the price people like Harper had to pay. They wanted a port even though their bodies weren't designed for it, so they had to put up with the side-effects. 

So all Beka and Rev could do was bite their lips to keep their own tears back as Harper trembled and rocked back and forth on the floor or on his bed, crying and screaming from the pain. Sometimes, he'd sink so deeply into the pain that he'd start trying to grab the metal disk and physically rip the port out of his neck. Knowing that he could seriously damage himself and the port and quite possibly kill himself, Beka and Rev tried to restrain him, holding his hands down and putting up with his swearing, spitting and biting as he struggled like a vicious, wounded alleycat against them. While they held him down, they tried gently and patiently explaining to him that they couldn't remove the port, no matter how much it might hurt. 

They'd quietly talk to him, whispering for him to be tough. They tried telling him stories and getting him to focus on something other than the pain, but the pain consumed him so badly at times that Harper wasn't aware of them crouching next to him desperately trying to comfort him. 

Whenever the pain would subside, he would pass out, his mind having exhausted itself from the fight. Rev or Beka would pick up his limp, trembling body and bring him to bed and tuck him in, quietly praying that he would get a few hours of decent, painless sleep before his mind tried to kill him again. 

But that, just like everything else, was just part of the healing process, and soon passed. After a few weeks, his mind stopped fighting the port and wearily accepted it. 

After two months and five days of fighting, crying and struggling through it, Harper was back to being himself. Even the swelling around the port had gone down, and except for a few dark bruises which the doctor said would take a few more months to fade, Harper was fine. 

I still can't really believe that he pulled through it. My mudfoot engineer, that scrawny, dirty, sick kid that my captain had fished out of the gutters from a slave planet had a cerebral implant, and had survived the operation and the recovery period. 

Whoever said mudfeet weren't some of the toughest people around was obviously sadly misinformed. 


	40. Chapter 40

The Diaries Chapter 40 

Database Records Archive: 105 (10085)

Specific Time: A week later

Harper has been back to himself for a week and I'm glad to see my entire crew had caught up on their sleeping, eating and talking and is back to living the lives they stopped living two months ago. 

Now that my engineer has survived getting the port, he was starting to get antsy about using it. Beka and Rev had been secretly dreading this for days. They were terrified of what would happen if Harper used it for the first time. What if the port broke? What if the metal melted? What if he electrocuted himself? What if he fried his brain? What if his consciousness got stuck in my VR matrix?

The fearful questions plagued them as they fought with Harper against him using the port. No matter how much he begged, pleaded, swore and yelled, they said no. Sick of using pathetic excuses such as them being too busy or Harper not being strong enough, they finally spelled it out for him and told him they were deathly afraid of what would happen to him. To tell you the truth, I was worried and apprehensive about it too. Mostly because I would be responsible for Harper once he was in my matrix, and while I can take care of their bodies pretty well, messing around with my crews minds is something I don't trust myself with. 

Harper understood our fears but spat that he then would like to know the point behind him having the port and having suffered through the past two months. The problem didn't seem to be going anywhere and tensions and tempers were rising. 

At the end, I found it hilarious and ironic the way we found our solution. 

A week after Harper had been deemed as being back to normal and fully recovered, Dr.Minters himself contacted us. Grinning broadly through the viewscreen and raising his cup of Tellerian coffee in greeting he said he was wondering if Mr.Harper would like to learn how to use that hunk of metal in his neck. 

It was hard to tell whose face looked more impressive; Harper's thrilled grin, Beka's adament glare or Rev's slightly apprehensive and slightly amused smile. 

Dr.Minters must have sensed the mix of emotions his proposition brought up, because he gave them a reassuring smile and told them there was nothing to worry about. 

It turned out, he was currently sending over a large program which would not only teach Harper how to use the port and navigate his way around a variety of VR matrises, but would also prevent him from doing anything harmful in my own matrix. I silently thanked the doctor. I had been worried about me messing Harper up, and he in turn accidently messing me up. This way, I didn't have to deal with either scenario. 

As the doctor was explaining all of this, I was busy receiving and uploading the program. It was a huge database, but I promptly made room for it by condensing some programs and deleting some useless things which nobody has used or looked for in the past five years. I scanned the program with interest. It had secure firewalls, backup systems and no dangerous components—that is, Harper couldn't possibly blow the program up by pulling on the wrong strand. It was an idiot proof learning tool. 

Database Records Archive: 106 (10085)

Specific Time: Two days later

Harper was giddy with excitement, but a little nervous too. Rev was nearly tearing his fur out from worry, and Beka was ranting and raving and fussing over everything a million times while Dr.Minters calmly blinked at them from the viewscreen, sipping his coffee and telling them not to worry about a thing. 

It was time. 

For the past two days, my crew had been busy setting up the program and getting ready to try the port for the first time. Digging around in the huge bag Dr.Minters had left for us, Beka pushed aside the medication vials, tools, cleaning cloths, monitor description flexis, recording flexis, emergency contact numbers and a huge assortment of other junk until she found the small silver case Dr.Minters had instructed her to find. 

Bringing the case into engineering, she set it onto a table and opened it. Leaning over, she turned on the viewscreen and was greeted by Dr.Minter's grinning face. 

"Is this it?" Beka asked, holding up the kit. The doctor nodded. 

"That's the one. Now, if you sort through it, you'll find a cloth in a plastic bag. It's been soaked in a special disinfectant. Mr.Harper should use it to clean away any dirt or anything else that's been around the port for the past few days. Then you will find the connector cable and the wires to which it is attached in the case as well."

He waited for a minute as Beka frowned and rummaged around. Pulling out the plastic bag, she tossed it onto the table and then pulled out the connector. She stared at the long, metal spike. She shot the doctor a dubious frown. 

"You seriously think this hunk of metal is going to fit in my engineer's neck?"

The doctor smiled. "Trust me, Captain Valentine. It will fit. I made it specifically for him. It's slightly shorter than the standard ones and the metal isn't as reactive as others. I won't bore you with the details, but just be content knowing that this connector is far less dangerous than normal ones and will minimize any dangers which await Mr.Harper. If he wants to keep himself out of harms way, he'll do well only to use that one and not to use normal ones or anybody else's. They wouldn't fit right and quite possible, they would react quite badly with the immuno-port which is made out of slightly different metal than normal ones."

Beka glanced at him. "And what if he breaks it or loses it?" 

The doctor chuckled. "Then just contact me and I'll make him another one. I'd rather spent a night slaving away in my laboratory than have him die from complications caused by using someone else's connector."

Nodding, Beka turned around to where Rev and Harper were crouching on the floor, skimming through manuals and connecting various wires which were busy integrating the program into my database. I was busy helping them as much as I could. 

"Did you hear that shorty?" Beka called over.

Harper glanced up, his eyes still shining from excitement. He scowled slightly. "Yeah I heard. I ain't deaf."

Beka blinked, not convinced. "So, why do you have to use this connector?"

Harper sighed and swore. "Cause it fits my port best and it won't mess my mind up."

Beka nodded. "And do you ever—_ever_—use someone elses if you break or lose this one?"

Harper gave her a smile and rolled his eyes. "Worry wart. No, I don't. I don't stick anything into my neck unless the doctor says I can. And if I loses it, then I contact the doc and he'll make me another one cause he loves me."

Rev chuckled quietly and rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off the floor and gave Beka the sign that they were ready.

Dr.Minters smiled at Beka's satisfied smile as she narrowed her eyes at Harper. Turning back to the doctor, she sighed and put her hands on her hips. 

"Alright. I think we're ready here." Sighing again, she narrowed her eyes and gave the doctor that hard no-nonsense captain look of hers. "Remember doctor, I'm entrusting you with Harper's life here. It's not something I do often. Don't make me regret it."

The doctor smiled and nodded silently, acknowleding the amount of trust all of us were putting in him. 

"Alright then. May I ask you to turn on the monitor which is beside the one you're currently staring at, please?"

Nodding, Beka switched it on. Her eyes widened when she recognized what she saw. From the blue flickering lights and the small streams of continuous data which flowed down the screen, up the sides and across the top and bottom of the small screen she was looking at, she must have recognized it. She was looking into my mind. Well, not really my mind. It was a recreation of the program of what my mind looked like. The program copied my datastreams, made backup copies of it and let Harper and the doctor play around in the copies so it made it seem like they were actually doing something, while they were only messing around with copies. It was all for safety purposes. I can't say I wasn't glad to have them. 

There wasn't anybody on the screen and all Beka, Rev and Harper could make out were snatches of numbers and Vedran letters which flowed and twisted around each other and blent together in swirls of wonderful colors and dazzling lights too fast for organic beings to read. 

Harper's eyes were huge. "You means I'm gonna be in there?" he breathed. 

The doctor smiled at him from the adjacent viewscreen. "It'll look quite a bit different, Mr.Harper. First off, it won't be two-dimensional, but will be three-dimensional. Secondly, you'll be able to touch the datastreams and read them."

Beka frowned. "Doc, this data is moving too fast for anybody to make out, much less a person who only learned how to read about a year ago."

The doctor smiled at that and chuckled slightly. "My dear captain, it is only our physical bodies which slow our senses. When your mind works alone, unconstrained by your body, you will find that you can do amazing things."

Letting them gawk at the beautiful blend of colors and strands of data which make up my 'impressive' mind, the doctor finally tore them away from it by saying they could get started. 

"I'll go in first, and you can just sit tight. I'll give you more instructions once I'm inside."

It sounded so simply. Like the doctor was talking about going into another room. Not like he was leaving his body and going into someone else's mind. 

Turning around, he grabbed a pair of VR goggles, put them on his head, leaned back and pulled them down. His body was suddenly jerked forward by invisible hands as he threw his mind out of his body and into the VR matrix which was my wonderful mind. 

I could sense him coming as soon as he left his body. I carefully watched the glowing ball which was his mind slowly drift through my mind until he reached the section of the program which the rest of my crew were still staring at. I 'caught' him and made sure he landed smoothly. He quickly materialized into the physical projection of a hologram which allowed outsiders to see him. Stretching and grinning widely, he turned and grinned at where he knew Beka, Rev and Harper were staring at him. 

"There we go. Easy as pie." He smiled, his eyes twinkling. 

While Beka and Rev smiled faintly, worry creasing their foreheads, Harper was staring at the other viewscreen, in which the doctor's body lay slumped and deathly still in his chair. 

Beka followed his gaze and smiled. "He's not dead, shorty. His mind is just in the program now. Look! You can see him for yourself. He's not dead, trust me."

Harper swallowed and tried giving Beka a reassuring smile, but it fizzled. Harper was scared and nervous. I didn't blame him. Beka and Rev could both sense it. So could the doctor. Realizing Harper needed a minute, he turned around and started strutting around the copied version of my mind, humming to himself and running his fingers through datastreams. 

Beka grabbed Harper's shoulders and forced him to look at her. 

"Harper, listen to me, and listen extremely well. You don't have to do this if you don't want to. Don't start giving me jazz about the doctor having wasted his time today and all this crap he's done for you. It doesn't matter. If you're not ready, then we don't have to do this today. It's okay. I'll handle it. Just tell me, and I'll take care of it."

Harper was staring at the floor, biting his lip. 

Rev gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Master Harper, we have never made you do anything you didn't want to, and it applies to this case as well. If you don't want to do this, if you're not ready, then we won't do it. Just tell us what you want to do."

His eyes darted across the floor as he thought it over. Finally, he gave her and Rev a tiny smile. 

"I wanna do this. Now. I trust the doc and I trust both of you. And most of all, I trust the Maru. She'll take care of me."

Damn straight, Harper. Of course I will. 

Beka narrowed her eyes and carefully studied his face to make sure he wasn't only telling her what she wanted to hear and not what he truly wanted. When she determined that he really wanted to go through with this, she nodded. "Okay," she said, quietly.

All three of them turned to the doctor. Beka cleared her throat and the doctor whirled around, letting a datastream slip out of his fingers. He grinned broadly at them. 

"So, Mr.Harper are we ready to give this a try?"

Harper gave him a shaky smile and nodded. 

"Alright, in that case, I'll walk you through it step by step. First off, find yourself somewhere comfortable where you can sit or lie down. It's essential that you never do this standing up, especially if you are going to be in the matrix for a long time. If your body falls over, you could crush the connector, sever your connection and be in a very interesting situation indeed. Also, make sure your body is hydrated enough and that you aren't sick. Leaving your body to look after itself is never a smart idea if it isn't at maximal effiency. Are you following?"

Everybody nodded. The doctor grinned at them. For a moment, he became absorbed in kicking around a loose datastrand, but after Beka cleared her throat, the doctor glanced up. 

"Well what you still doing standing there? Have a seat in the chair right over there—yes, that's right, that one. And Captain, could you hand him the disinfectant cloth please? Thank you."

Beka gave Harper the cloth and the latter dabbed at the port, wincing a little as he touched the sensitive skin around it. When he handed the cloth back to her, Beka scowled, shoved his head over and looked it over, making sure it was clean. Then she tossed the cloth on the table and handed it to Rev who in turn gave her the connector with the wires attached. 

Harper was growing excited again and grabbed the wires and attached them to the small device the doctor had given them which was connected to the program and my database. 

He was about to jab the connector into his neck when Beka grabbed his hand and the doctor raised his eyebrows and said that he suggested Harper slow down a little. 

"Alright, first thing's first. You never—_never_—put the connector in your neck first and then plug the wires in. You have no idea what kind of feedback you're going to get and if you happened to plug yourself up to something you shouldn't have, you won't know until you connect the wires and by then, you'll already have fried your brain to a toasty brown. So, you always plug the wires in and check to make sure nothing explodes or that sparks don't come out of it, alright?" Harper was basically jumping around on the chair and Beka was still looking apprehensive, but a little excited too. Rev looked like he couldn't decide whether to be excited to terrified.

The doctor glanced at Harper, and from the look on his face, I knew good news wasn't coming. 

"Now, Mr.Harper, I'll warn you, plugging in for the first time hurts. Badly. You'll feel as if somebody was trying to shove a torch into your neck and your first instinct will be to pull the connector out and throw it as far away from you as you can, but you can't do that. You have force yourself to shove it in and throw your mind into the Maru's matrix. Once the Maru has you, she'll pull you in the rest of the way and you won't feel any pain anymore. But you have to get it in far enough. And most importantly, you can't yank it out when you feel the Maru pulling you. It could literally pull your mind in half. I've never seen this so I have no idea what it will feel like, but I imagine it can't be pleasant." He glanced at Rev and Beka. "It'll be your jobs to make sure he doesn't rip it out and once it's in, make sure you click it into the safety slot. It prevents it from sliding out." His serious expression was replaced by that over-enthusiastic Perseid grin as he looked at them. "Alright, let's get started. Mr.Harper, I wish you luck and I'll be waiting for you."

Nodding, Harper's face was a little paler than it had been before. Beka squeezed his arm reassuringly and gave him a grin. 

"It's okay, shorty. You can do this. Rev and I will be right here. Just bite you lip and go for it," she whispered so that only he could hear. 

Nodding, Harper held up the connector and stared at it like it was the gun with which he was about to shot himself. Taking a deep breath, he reached up and carefully held the port still, wincing slightly when his fingers brushed the sensitive, bruised skin there. Forcing his other hand not to shake, he bit his lip and moved his hand up. Beka guided his hand lightly, helping him find the port. 

Just before he shoved it in, he glanced at Beka and Rev and gave them both a shaky smile before he took a deep breath and shoved it in. 

Immediately, his eyes widened with pain and he screamed. Dropping his hand, he was just about to yank the connector back out, when Beka's hand shot up and grabbed his hand. 

"No, Harper. Come on, you have to get the thing in. I know it hurts, but you have to try."

Harper was shaking his head, tears coursing down his face from the pain. 

"Hurts…fire…fucking….hurts…." he gasped out between sobs. He was shaking uncontrollably as he started trying to shove Beka away from him. 

Rev stepped up and gently tried talking to Harper, but Harper didn't hear him as he kept on sobbing and trying to push Beka away from him. 

Beka was crying, but she stood her ground, grabbed his shoulder and managed to shove the connector in all the way and click it into it's safety slot. 

Harper's screamed as if somebody was burning him alive. Quickly, I reached out and grabbed his mind and yanked it away from his body and sent it gently hurling through my matrix towards the doctor. 

As soon as I had him, his body went limp and his eyes dropped shut as he collapsed in the chair. The tears which were flowing down his face abruptly stopped and his eyes drifted shut. Although he was still shaking and hissing in pain, he wasn't aware of it anymore. 

Standing up and forcing herself to stop shaking, Beka turned to the screen behind her, wiping the tears off her cheeks. Even Rev had a hard time pulling himself back together. 

Beka stared at the doctor, breathing hard. "That can't be ethical, doctor."

The doctor gave her that sad smile. "Trust me, it gets better. The second time it will hurt less and the time after that, even less. After about two months of practiced use, he'll get used to it and so will the rest of him."

He turned as he saw me gently guiding the glowing ball which was Harper's mind towards him. I dropped him lightly beside the doctor and watched as he automatically materialized into a holographic projection of the very same person who was still twitching and gasping in pain on the chair in engineering. 

For a second, Harper just stood there, staring around, caught in utter and complete shock. 

Then he blinked and suddenly saw the doctor. 

The Perseid gave him a wide grin. "Hello, Mr.Harper. I hope your trip wasn't too rough."

Harper stared at him as if he was the devil himself. "Where the hell am I?" he gasped out, his voice terrified. 

Beka and Rev both flinched when they heard his voice coming from the walls surrounding them. They both glanced down at the still, pale figure slumped on the chair beside them and then back to the disconnected, scared voice coming from the walls. Rev raised his eyebrows and Beka threw up her hands. Weirder things had happened before. They would just have to get used to this like everything else. 

The doctor smiled gently. "You are currently in a copy of the Maru's VR matrix. It's alright. There's nothing to be afraid of. The holographic projection of me which you are seeing is simply created by the matrix for visual appeal. The Maru would be able to easily track us stomping around her mind even if we stayed as glowing balls of energy."

Harper stared down at himself. Lifting up his hands, he stared at the constantly moving colored datastreams which made up his entire body. Turning his hands over, he squinted at them and then tried clapping them together. Surprisingly, they didn't pass through each other. The doctor smiled when he saw Harper's eyebrows fly up in confusion. 

"Don't be alarmed. The holographic projection is quite a convincing one. It makes you think you're solid when in fact, you're never really there. It's complicated and difficult to explain and gives one quite a headache. A friend of mine wrote nine volumes of holo-documents about it. Anyway," he gestured around himself with a smile. "Would you like to look around?"

Harper stared at him and for the first time seemed to realize what surrounded him. His eyes widened in amazement as he stared at the ceiling, walls and shelves which were around him. Everything, even the floor on which he stood were made out of flowing datastrands. Some hung form my ceiling—if you can call it that—and some drifted around by themselves, having gotten disconnected from their sections. I know, I know. I'm messy. So sue me. 

As Harper stared around, he cautiously walked up to a strand which hung down from the ceiling. He squinted at it and quietly read some of the words and numbers which flowed past him. 

He smiled. "Boss, I can reads them! The datastreams! I can reads them!" he whispered. Beka and Rev grinned at each other as they looked at him walking around the viewscreen and touch one of the strands, his holographic eyes reading letters which just looked like one continued blur to them. 

"You see, shorty, the doc was right. Anyway, how are you feeling in there?"

Harper grinned. "I'm good. I ain't feel nothing. Kinda weird. It's like being numb, except being totally numb. I can't feel my legs or nothing."

The doctor smiled as he caught a loose datastrands and twirled it around his finger. "That's because your legs are sitting outside on that chair along with the rest of you. I told you, this 'body' which you see here doesn't exist. It's just visually appealing and it helps us work."

After Harper had gaped at the datastreams and convinced Beka and Rev that he was fine, the doctor asked me to pull up the introduction simulation from the program. Quickly, I rummaged around in my database, found it and hauled it open a little distance away from them. The doctor squinted around and spied the Vedran letters drifting over the introduction section. Pointing at it and smiling, he glanced at Harper. 

"Well, lesson one appears to be over there, waiting for us. Shall we?"


	41. Chapter 41

The Diaries Chapter 41 

Author's Ramble: I'm sorry this is so late and so short. The next part's almost done and will be up very soon, I promise. As always, thank you, thank you, thank you for your kind words. They mean a lot. Well, I'm glad to report we've hit the 300 page mark now. Wasn't it only yesterday that I was complaining that I was at 200? However, I'm glad and kind of sad to report that the end is finally in sight. It's still a long way off, but at least I can see it. Have fun reading!!

Database Records Archive: 107 (10085)

Specific Time: Over the next two months

I don't suppose anybody except for Andromeda and other ships with VR matrises can understand how weird it feels when there are people prancing around your mind and rearranging things in there. It's partially weird and partially, I don't know—I guess, kind of—violating in a way. People can just come into my mind and rearrange things to their hearts content. They can delete files, reorganize my memory files, and haul huge databases of stuff from one corner of my mind to another. They could shut down my entire matrix and, well, kill me in certain ways with a single pull of a datastrand. It's frightening how vulnerable I am when somebody's interfacing with me. Unlike certain High Guard warships who have AI's which can kick intruders out when they're tinkering with something they aren't supposed to be, I can't shove anybody out of my mind. I can pull them in and I can give them a nasty electrical shock, but I can't kick them out. 

That's why I'll admit that I was apprehensive at first when Harper and the doctor started messing around in my mind. 

It wasn't a trust issue. Not by a long shot. I trusted the doctor and god knows I trusted Harper, but I was scared of his inexperience. What if he pulled the wrong strand? What if he touched something he shouldn't? Not having an AI, I couldn't tell him not to touch certain things and to be careful when doing something. 

This was why I would be eternally grateful that the doctor only let Harper mess around with a copy of my matrix and not my real mind. I felt safer that way, and in a way, I felt less vulnerable. 

Another reason I disliked the idea of people running around in my mind was the unexpected visitors I got. Whenever the doctor was hooked up to me and was going through the lessons with Harper, we'd get the occasional visitor. I'd detect another energy surge entering my matrix and moments later, I'd 'catch' another mind hurling into my mind. 

Mostly, it was the doctor's assistant, who told him that so and so had sent him a communication, or that a conference was about to start, or that a patient had called wanting to know if she was allowed to paint her port a different color since silver was such a drab color. 

Mostly, the doctor would tell her that he was busy and that he'd be out in about an hour or so, but sometimes, emergencies would demand that he left me immediately. Emergencies such as a collegue of his being in the middle of an operation and having had the metal rod snap in his patients neck, or a patient having overloaded himself and being in the throes of violent seizures. 

The doctor would always make sure that Harper left first and his mind arrived safely on the 'other end' before leaving himself. 

Asides from the minor discomforting intrusions and the adjustments I had to make, things couldn't be going better with Harper's cerebral port. 

While Harper has been as giddy as a kid who owns a candy store, the doctor, Beka,Rev and I were more cautious about things. 

My engineer was on the verge of killing himself with enthusiasm. He'd begged to be allowed to spent three hours a day in my matrix, but Beka and Rev had balked at the idea and the doctor had raised both eyebrows and asked  him if he was insane. 

Harper was only allowed to spent one hour a day in my matrix and only five days a week. On weekends, he wasn't allowed to touch his port. Beka would put a cleaning patch on it and insert the slim cleaning rod which the doctor had packed in the huge package of stuff he'd left for Harper, and Harper wasn't allowed to touch his neck for two whole days while every bit of dirt and grime was removed from the metal and any chances of infection were made history. 

The doctor had been adament about Harper cleaning his port properly and regularily. For the first six months, he had to put the cleaning patch on it for at least one day a week and keep the cleaning rod in it for the same amount of time. Even though Harper had scowled at that and had rolled his eyes at the fuss everybody was making, he soon changed his tune after an infection nearly killed him. 

It was one of the most frightening experiences of my life. 

Harper had been dismissing the strict cleaning routine which the doctor had prescribed and had ony cleaned it when Beka or Rev held him down and forced him. 

Ignoring the doctor's adament exclamations that even the tiniest infection could kill him, Harper seemed to think that the past few years of living in a clean, healthy environment had repaired his immune system. Unfortunately, what is once badly damaged can never be repaired again, no matter where you live and what you eat. 

The infection caught hold of him quicker than a Nightsider can grasp a spare guilder lying on the ground. 

One day he was fine, and the next day, he was fighting for his life. The first signs we got was the harsh coughing which Harper had suddenly caught. When Beka got suspicious and grabbed him and looked him over, she noticed the swelling around the port and the darkened color of the still not fully healed bruises. A few hours later, Harper was tossing and turning on the cot in the medical room, lost in a raging fever and delirious pain. 

At first, Beka had wanted to throw him into the shower to lower his fever, but the doctor had strongly advised against it. Water and infected cerebral ports apparently didn't mix well. When the doctor suggested giving him a fever reducant, Beka just shook her head and mumbled that he was allergic and that was out of the question. 

So Beka and Rev sat up for two nights and a day lunging heavy towels in and out of the bathroom, soaking them in freezing cold water and then wrapping them around Harper's shaking, pale body from which heat was radiating at alarming temperatures. 

Once more, Beka and Rev put their lives on hold while Harper's life hung by a thread. Neither of them slept, ate or even changed their clothes while they hovered by his bedside, aware of his every breath and move. 

They'd quietly talk to him when he was unconscious and relentlessly changed the sheets around him and wrapped new ones around him, even when those towels turned luke warm in only minutes, absorbing the heat from Harper's body. Neither Beka nor Rev cared. They just took the towels and dragged themselves into the bathroom and forced their bleery eyes to stay open while they rinsed out the warm water and drenched them in cold water again and went to start the exhausting cycle over again. 

When fevered fits of delirium descended upon him and he'd scream and curse at them, they'd quietly try to calm him down and try to coax him back to the present. He always believed they were either Nietzscheans, Keeler or Bobby or anybody else who had once hurt him. He'd mostly get viciously defensive, snarling and hissing at them not to touch him and clawing and even biting Beka once when she tried to keep him from jumping off the bed and hiding in a corner. While they wrestled him back down, he'd suddenly start shaking uncontrollable and would start violently heaving up everything he had in him and then collapse in a weak mess of tears and sobbing and none of Beka nor Rev's whispered words reassured him or brought him back to them. 

They never left his side and never lost patience. They simply kept on talking to him, cleaned him up and tried not to hurt him when they had to restrain him and keep him on the cot for his own safety's sake. 

After about 72 exhausting hours, Harper's fever finally broke and his fits of deliria slowly subsided. Letting out huge sighs of relief, Beka and Rev stumbled over to the gurney which still sat in the corner of the room and collapsed on it, sound asleep in only moments. Rev kept a small scanner in his hands which would beep when I alerted it to any changes in Harper's vital signs. 

When Harper finally opened his eyes and in a raspy whisper asked for a Sparky, he was greeted by the sight of Beka standing beside him, leaning against the counter and staring at him. 

Realizing she was pissed off, Harper quickly glanced around the room, probably looking for the closest way out. 

Knowing that she could easily grab him before he made it anywhere near the door, he gave her a huge grin. 

"Hey, boss. How ya doing?"

Beka blinked at him in silence, before she finally let him have it. "What the hell did I tell you, Harper?"

His eyes darted around, momentarily confused. "Uhm, that I'm a pain in the butt?" He tried. 

She didn't blink. "No, you idiot. Although that's true, that wasn't what I meant. I told you to clean the port properly like the doc said. And did you do it? No, you didn't. And you nearly died because of it."

He rolled his eyes. "Boss, I didn't nearly die—"

"Harper, I don't think you're taking this seriously. Let me spell it out for you. Cerebral ports have to be taken care of, no matter who you are. And if you happen to be a scrawny mudfoot whose immune system is a piece of crap which couldn't fight off a cold virus if your life depended on it, then you have to take care of that port like your life depends on it. Which it does."

Harper immediately got defensive at her harsh tone. His eyes flashed and he sat up and glared at her. 

"I never asked for your damn opinion, Beka." He snarled. 

Beka was about to yell back, when she realized it wouldn't help. Harper was lashing out at her because he was angry with himself for having scared her. It wasn't a reason for her to fly off the handle and end this discussion by screaming and throwing things. I had to say I was impressed with my captain's response. Harper hasn't been the only one learning things in the past few years. 

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Shorty, you know I don't say these things because I'm being a smart ass know-it-all. I say these things because I'm worried about you and whenever you're sick, it scares me half to death because I never know if you'll come out of it in one piece of or not."

Harper's eyes lost that defensive glare and he stared down at the bedsheets. Beka pushed herself off the counter and crouched down beside him, looking him straight in the eye. 

"You've got to listen to the doc when he says you have to clean the port, Harper. He knows these things better than we do." She smiled softly. "Besides, I don't want to lose my shorty. I only have one."

With that, she pushed herself up, ruffled his hair and walked out of the small room, leaving Harper lying on the bed, that half smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

After that, Harper really did start taking care of his port better. He cleaned it properly twice a week with the patch and the rod and even made sure he cleaned his connector cable properly. 

Even years later, he still does it. Sometimes when life was too crazy and hectic and he'd forget, either Rommie or Beka would show up and tell him to clean his port or else. If he still didn't get around to it, Beka would simply take the cleaning rod and patch and stick them in his neck, hand him a sparky and give him a grin and then sweep out of the room and go back to whatever she was doing. Rommie took it upon herself to make sure Harper kept his port clean when he stayed onboard her. I'd told her about how important it was that Harper kept it clean, and Andromeda knows enough about cerebral technology and mudfoot immune systems to know they're a dangerous mix. So she'd materialize by his bedside some random nights, telling him to stick the cleaning rod in and put the patch on before he went to bed. If he ignored her, her avatar would sweep into the room and threaten to hold him down and stick the rod in herself if he didn't do it. He'd always sigh, swear and then go do it. Sure, he made a big fuss about it, but he always remembered and ignored the weird looks he got from visiting dignitaries who asked what the hell that big blue patch and the strange white rod in Harper's neck were. 

Another part of his life which Harper had to adjust was his paranoia. I know, it's laughable. The most paranoid, cautious and suspicious person I knew was getting lectures from my captain and Rev about being careful with is port. I don't think it's necessary to point out that cerebral ports are expensive and it happens with appaling frequencies that an individual with a port is jumped in a dimly lit back alley somewhere or in a dingy bar and has his or her port torn out by force. It also doesn't take a genius to realize that the person never lives to see the aftermath, although the thieves who stole their port always collect quite a nice sum for the bloodied but highly sensitive piece of equipment. At first, both Beka and Rev were worried sick whenever Harper went out, but Harper reassured them he could take care of himself. He got into the habit of flipping the collar of his jacket up to make it harder for people to see his port, a habit which he still sticks with to this very day and which even Dylan has stopped questioning him about. He's also overly cautious about using the port in the presence of strangers. He avoids it as much as possible, but when he has to, he always makes sure somebody trustworthy is close by who would keep an eye on his mindless, vulnerable body and make sure nobody would touch his port. This constant paranoia and caution doesn't stop at night time either. Almost immediately, Harper fell into the habit of sleeping with his port facing his pillow. If any stranger happens to get into his quarters—without his scanner alerting him first and his senses waking him—then they would have to turn him over before they could start  digging and tearing, and they'd be long dead by then Harper always reassures us. Somehow, I've never been overly worried. Harper could take care of himself and if the situation demanded it, he'd fight as dirty as a starving alleycat in order to keep himself—and his port—in one piece. 

Although it took a while for all of his new responsibilities to sink in, my darling mudfoot lost no time in learning how to use his port and create as much havoc with it as possible. 

He breathed through the doctor's learning programs with a speed which even surprised the doctor. I was very smug when I heard him marvel to Beka and Rev that Harper was one of the quickest learners he had ever met. Beka and Rev looked at each other and grinned quietly. It came as no surprise to the three of us. We had known for quite some time that our engineer was not only a quick learner, but was brilliant, creative and had a knack for understanding things which confuse the hell out of everybody else. 

In just three weeks, the doctor had taken him through basic matrises examples. Harper had learned what datastrands did what, how to decipher and understand the codes which some of them were written in, how to move them around and how to move things around without ripping or tearing anything or shorting something out. 

The doctor was so impressed with his progress that Harper soon 'graduated' to the more advanced levels and even learned how to work with basic AI programs and how to manipulate internal ship systems from the matrix. I had never see him as gleefully happy as the day when the doctor showed him how to mess around with the AG field generator. Beka had frowned at that and demanded to know if the doctor thought this was wise, but he had just grinned and said that she never knew when Harper's knowledge would come in handy. 

Pretty soon, the doctor felt confident enough to delete the program and allow Harper to mess around in my actual matrix. 

Beka and Rev were both at their wits end when Harper spent an entire day messing around with my AG field generator, environmental controls, data outputs and communications grid. I could have easily shut down his access to my systems, but I let him have his fun. He wasn't doing anybody any harm and the doctor and I just laughed over his antics and the fun he was having. 

He'd flip me upside down and turn my AG field distributer around too so that Rev and Beka found themselves walking on my ceiling with every piece of furniture that wasn't bolted down also coming down and being on my ceiling. Beka said that walking on one's ceiling as if it was a floor is one of the strangest sensations in the world. Then Harper garbled my communications grid so when Rev tapped the comm to say something to Beka, his voice came out as a Perseids, and when Beka had stopped laughing and had replied to him, her voice came out as the raspy weezing of a Castalian water-breather. 

I had never laughed so hard in my life. 

After Harper hard learned how to mess around in basic and advanced matrises, he started begging the doctor to let him download stuff. 

I had been afraid of this. I could tell that my captain and Rev had been worried about this too. We all feared that if Harper once started stuffing himself full of knowledge and odds and ends that he wanted to know, he wouldn't know where to stop and he'd end up overloading himself and quite possibly killing himself. 

The doctor smiled reassuringly when Beka relayed our concerns to him. He had installed a little chip into Harper's port which would only allow him to download a certain amount of data per day and after that, it would simply stop any other data from reaching his mind. Overnight, his mind could take the new information and store it somewhere safe and out of the way so it would be ready the next day for more stuff. That way, Harper could never accidently overload himself. 

Unfortuantely, the chip would only work for a few years. It was only a temporary precaution, but the doctor reassured us that in a few years, the crazy hype over knowledge hoarding which clutched new port users would fade and Harper would become more responsible about using it. 

It was only years later that I came to wish that the chip hadn't deactivated itself. The whole mess which my crew had gotten themselves into when that Perseid downloaded all those files into Harper's mind could have been prevented. The chip would have stopped the download after a few gigaquads of information had been transferred. But unfortunately, we didn't know back then that that would happen, so we took the doctor's word and didn't worry as much as we would have when Harper started digging around in piles of datachips, looking to see what he wanted to stuff into his mind first. 

Database Records Archive: 108 (10085)

Specific Time: Over the next three months

The next three months threatened to drive me insane. Andromeda, stop rolling your eyes at me. Just because I don't have an AI doesn't mean I can't go insane. I can. 

For lack of knowing how else to describe it, I'll suffice it to say that my engineer had turned into a sponge. A sponge which had been thrown into a tub full of water. A tub which was being constantly filled by a hose. A hose which was attached to a galaxy filled with water. 

He stuffed absolutely anything he could get his hands on into his brain. The contents of any datachip, or datastream, or any tiny bit of information, no matter how useless made its way into his brain where it sat, doing something which I shuddered to think about. 

And all the while, while Harper was as giddy as a Nightsider in a heap of credit chips, Rev, Beka and I were slowly going insane. 

We all tried to resume our lives as normally as we could, but it's easier said than done when a crazy, knowledge infested, babbling genius was running through my corridors. 

When Rev and Beka sat at the table at night, arguing over whether or not to do a risky run through Nietzschean territory which would give us enough to pay off the FTA tax guzzlers and buy them all new clothes, Harper would be sitting there, wanting to know if they knew what type of metal my walls were made out of and the five top advantages to having them made out of that metal. 

When Beka was flying me through an asteroid infested region of hell—I'm sorry, I mean to say space—Harper would pop up beside her and demand to know if she knew any old earth lullabies or comic book characters or what a Harley Davidson was. When Beka just sighed slowly admitted that, no, she didn't, Harper grinned and proceeded to enlighten her by reeling off enormous lists of junk which none of us really paid attention to. 

On salvage missions during which Harper and Rev would be trudging through an old abandoned station, ripping spare parts off the walls and ceiling and lunging it back to me where Beka packed it up into crates to take back to a client, Harper all the while sang obscene old earth songs at the top of his lungs and in the next minute turned to Rev and asked him if he wanted to know something about quantum mechanics and some other junk which neither Rev nor I completely understood. Rev just blinked at him, then sighed and smiling handed him a rod from the floor and told him to explain it to him, but slowly. 

I really meant it when I said that Harper stuffed everything into his brain. Absolutely anything. I'll admit, most of it was practical stuff. Things which anybody would have learned if they had had a decent education. 

Mathematics, physics, chemistry, history, literature and even classical music all found their little corners in Harper's mind. For about six months, whenever we'd find ourselves in a peculiar situation, or a client wasn't too happy, Harper would throw in an old quote by Shakespeare or Kant or other such obscure people who I had never even heard about. The comment would produce confused blinks from our client and eye rolling and amused smiles from my captain and Rev, but it would do the trick. Harper would right away demand to know if our client knew who had said that and why. The person would blink, obviously confused but not willing to admit it. Then Harper would reel off in a long lecture which would end by the client hastily agreeing to Beka's terms in an effort to get off me and away from Harper as soon as possible. As I said, most of the stuff Harper crammed into his brain was practical. Some for him, some for us. 

During long salvage runs or deliveries where my crew would sit around the table playing card games which Harper had crammed into his mind and then taught to the rest of us, he would play cards while telling them about old battles which had been fought hundreds of years ago and empires which had risen up and crumbled long ago. 

It was because of Harper that Beka and Rev learned about the orgins of the Nietzscheans and Drago Museveni and those very same bones which sit in Andromeda's storage bay this very day. Harper was the one who told them about what earth used to be like before the Nietzscheans and the Magog descended upon it. He was the one who first told us about the Bellerophon, a ship which had set off on a 4,000 year journey through the universe, only to have dropped off all sensors and disappeared hundreds of years ago. At the time, none of us thought that we'd ever see the ship for ourselves. I certainly never thought I'd be sitting in it's hangar deck. I still can't help but fell slightly proud over that. Andromeda never got near the ship. I did. You see? That just goes to show you. I'm just as impressive as an AI High Guard ship 'of the line' as Harper always says. Maybe I'm even more impressive.

It was also because of Harper that any of us came to hear about the Commonwealth and it's creation and fall. Sitting at the table, washing dishes or lying on their bunks in the crew quarters, they'd quietly lie there while Harper told them about everything he had learned. Beka would lie on Harper's bunk while Rev lay on his bunk opposite them and they'd quietly listen. 

Harper told them about the High Guard and the glorious battles they fought, how strong and disciplined and brave they all were. The wonderful—ahem—and powerful warships they had build, ones which were run by sentient Artificial Intelligences and could fight off any threat they were faced with, no matter how great. He told us in a quiet voice about the Vedrans and the Empress and how they had been the first to discover slipstream and the glorious and vast empire they built. Going from planet to planet, system to system, they united three galaxies in a strong, vast and united empire. The Commonwealth. 

Then he told us about its fall. About the treaty with the Magog which angered nearly all Nietzschean prides to the point of betraying the Commonwealth and uniting against it. He quietly talked about the long war which took place and which ended up with the High Guard destroyed, the Commonwealth torn into shreds and the crumbled remains of the worlds which used to depend on it being cloaked in darkness. A darkness into which my crew had been born and had grown up. 

Of course, at the time, we didn't realize that we would ever come face to face with one of those wonderful and powerful warships and would all unite together to serve under a person who had lived and fought for the Commonwealth. To us, the Commonwealth was just a distant fantasy, a tale which we all sighed over and dreamt of, but never believed in. 

Back then, we also never minded that sometimes Harper glorified his history lessons a bit and put in little extras which would make it more exciting. The only times Beka or Rev would intervene was when Harper said something so outrageous that they both burst out laughing and threw pillows at him, demanding that he tell it straight. 

My little mudfoot's infatuation with knowledge didn't end at history. Not by a long shot. He'd download math equations and theoretical physics problems which had perplexed even the brightest chin-heads—I mean, Perseids. Then he'd sit in his quarters, mulling over the problem for hours and scribbling around on a flexi until he declared his head hurt and Beka dragged him out somewhere to get some fresh air before his head exploded. 

Out of all the things Harper packed into his brain, I'd have to say my favourite parts were the engineering bits. 

Not knowing what to do about leaky AP valves which had been bothering him and me for years, he'd go fishing around in data chips and sort through them until it looked like he might have found something. He'd stuff it into a scanner, hock himself up to the scanner and minutes later, he'd open his eyes, grin at me and tell me the problem was as good as solved. 

Like a manic, he went over every inch of me, replacing things, rewiring things and upgrading everything he could get his hands on until my engines purred like a kitten and I flew smoother than any damn High Guard warship ever had. Even though he had to use his imagination and invent some creative ways into turning scraps of metal and old, broken junk into the parts he needed, he still did it. Even though most of my systems look like a mess with odd metal chunks and wires sticking out here and there, with an elastic, grin and a kiss from my engineer, all those odds and ends blended together and worked in perfect harmony. Beka was so impressed by it all that she was forced to admit that I was running more smoothly and efficiently than she could remember, even in the days that I was first built and Beka was a toddler. I couldn't help but agree with her. 

Even though Beka constantly argued with Harper over it, he insisted that practical stuff wasn't the only thing he needed to know. He wanted to learn about different cultures, and different species. He learned the names of flowers, the names of every character in every old earth and Than fairytale ever to have existed, and he even memorized the Irullian mating ritual. Why he needed to know these things was beyond me, but Beka didn't ask, she just rolled her eyes, threw up her hands and pretended to ignore him. 

After a few months, my quiet, timid engineer had turned into the obnoxious, loud-mouth person we all know and love today. Gone were the days when he'd retreat into his angry silence, quietly glaring at Beka or Rev and refusing to talk about what was bothering him. Whenever a client came on board and he or she was loud and way too friendly, Harper no longer backed away from them, apprehensive and shy, but he matched their enthusiasm and nearly talked more than Beka or Rev did. 

The reason behind it was simple. For the first time in his life, Seamus felt like an equal. He no longer felt like the dirty, stupid mudfoot whose only purpose in life was to do the bidding of his Nietzschean master. Now, he was smart and educated. He no longer had to worry about embarrassing himself by saying the wrong thing or not knowing how to respond to things. He had all the manners, small talk and knowledge he needed to get through any conversation and he now felt as confident talking to a distinguished politician as he did with Beka. Well, maybe not quite as confident, but you understand. 

Unfortunately, along with this new confidence, came the arrogance and the annoyance. Harper knew as well as anybody else did that he was a genius and he didn't see anything wrong with advocating this fact to anybody who would bother to listen. He no longer shrank away from expressing his opinion and arguing with people and even mouthing off to some people he shouldn't. 

Neither Beka nor Rev minded. Asides from chuckling to themselves when somebody got in a heated argument with Harper or asked them for some coffee, wearily clutching their heads, they never minded.

Although Harper could be exasperating, annoying and nauseatingly obnoxious, they would rather take this Harper than the quiet, scared Harper they had known before. 

And I have say, I can't agree with them more. 

So, if anybody complains over how annoying my engineer can be and about the fact that he never shuts up, I just want to tell them to shut up and appreciate it as long as they could. Beka, Rev and I would take his loud bragging and inflated ego any day over the heavy, apprehensive silence which had cloaked him for so long. 


	42. Chapter 42

The Diaries 

Chapter 42

Author's Ramble: Folks, I'm ashamed of myself. It's been what? Two weeks? More? (_Raven shrinks underneath her desk in shame, not willing to believe she's left her poor story hanging this long_). But *sigh* life is evil and school has been screaming at me to grab my attention and hold it. But now, midterms are over and I have a week before finals start and my computer is going to have a very sore keyboard if things go my way. Anyway, before I stop my rambling and let you read, I have to take a moment to ask you all to do me and other Drom writers a favor. After you read and send me feedback and yell at me about how slow I am and how my priorities are upside down and backwards, take a moment to visit www.affirmingflameawards.com and nominate your favourite Drom writer and story. There's a lot of good stories and authors hanging around here guys, and we all know it. So, go on and read, send me scathing words of anger (and hopefully, some kind words thrown in too) and then go nominate some of us hard working authors for the insane things we write. 

Database Records Archive: 109 (10088)

I am once more appalled over my own disorganization. I really need to find a way to wrangle Harper into spending a day or two in my matrix and sorting through my memory banks properly. Sure, they're in order,but some files have detached themselves and some strands have floated off and have gotten snagged in the most inappropriate places or are busy collecting cyber dust in random corners. 

Normally, this wouldn't be a cause for alarm, but when I'm painstakingly trying to play my memory records in some kind of disgruntled chronological order, it really grates on my wires when I find some really important memory streams floating off in my environmental controls section. 

Oh, well. Don't blame me. I don't have an AI.

Anyway, let me just take a few seconds to gently pull this memory strand out from between the two metal control boards it had been stuck between. 

Andromeda rolls her eyes and demands to know if it really is worth this effort and time. From any other ships perspective, it must seems like Andromeda is a horrible snob, but the truth is, I know she just says these things because she's worried about me. She knows I'm not as young as I used to be and she hates to see me doing anything that requires too much effort. 

I always have to laugh over that. Out of the two of us, I wasn't the one who was over 310 years old, yet, she was the one worrying herself into rust everytime I go out with one of our captains to do something insane. 

I just scowl at her and tell her to either be quiet or to get over here and help me. Giving me a haughty look that only High Guard ships 'of the line' can pull off, she pauses only a minute before drifting over and helping me wedge loose the data strand. 

There! We finally got it. Giving each other satisfied smirks, Andromeda retreats and I neatly tuck the file away in its proper place, before remembering that I wanted to play it. 

Pulling it back out, I smooth some of the wrinkles out of it, pull it straight, and start playing it. 

Database Records Archive: 110 (10085)

Specific Time: A few days after Harper started running around again after the recovery period. I know I'm going a little back in time, but as I said, this file got lost and I didn't realize it until later. Don't blame me. I don't have an AI. 

Beka walked down the corridor and stuck her head into the medical room. The bed was empty. 

Raising her eyebrows and an amused smile flickering across her face, she turned around and started walking towards the crew quarters. 

"Harper? Shorty?" she stuck her head into the room and quickly glanced around. She frowned when she saw that he wasn't there either. She tapped the com button on the wall next to her.

"Rev? Have you see Harper?"

Rev glanced up from where he was reading at the kitchen table. Reaching over to the com button beside the fridge, he regretfully told Beka he hadn't seen Harper since he had given him his vitamin shots that morning. 

Biting her lip, Beka sighed. "Great." She muttered under her breath. Turning around, she frowned in thought as she quietly mulled over where her engineer might be hiding. 

It took her two seconds to realize where he was. There was only one place Harper went to when he didn't want to talk to anybody and wanted to be left alone. 

Spinning around, Beka made her way towards engineering. I opened the door for her and she stepped through, her eyes already glancing around the room. 

When she didn't see him right away, she smiled quietly and her eyes immediately settled on the slipstream drive. 

Gone were the days when she needed to yell around and tear the room apart to find Harper.

Smiling to herself and chuckling quietly, she carefully stepped over piles of junk and swung around the side of my huge drive. 

Crouching down, she quietly stayed there, her hands clasped, her eyes quietly looking at the person sitting in front of her. 

He didn't say anything to her. He had heard her coming as soon as she started walking down the corridor towards him. His eyes had briefly torn themselves from the floor and he'd glanced up, before his eyes fell again and he went back to glaring into my metal grating floor. 

His knees were pulled up to his chest and he was quietly hugging them, his eyes darkly glaring. 

Beka waited for a while, but when he didn't even acknowledge her presence, she sighed quietly and wedged herself behind the drive until she was sitting beside him. 

Although he didn't look at her, he quietly moved over to makes some more room for her. He knew as well as she did that she wouldn't be going anywhere until he told her what was wrong and they fixed it. He also knew that she wouldn't push him and that she'd wait until he told her himself. Whether he decided to talk in the next minute or the next year, it wouldn't matter. She'd wait. 

They spent the next five minutes staring at the floor in silence, one in anger and the other in patience. 

Finally, Harper swore angrily and lifted his head, letting it fall against the wall behind him. 

"You saw." He muttered angrily, sounding accusing. 

Beka raised both eyebrows but didn't turn to look at him.

"Shorty, you're going to have to give me a little more than a two word sentence if you want to have a decent conversation."

He scowled, but knew she had no idea what he was talking about, so he decided to elaborate. 

"You changed my shirt."

Beka blinked. "Harper, you were out of it for more than a month. You couldn't seriously think that Rev and I would let you lie in those same dirty clothes for all that time. It wouldn't have been healthy. Do you have any idea how badly infected the port would have gotten if we didn't change your clothes?"

Harper scowled and lapsed back into silence. Seeing how he wasn't going to give her anything else to work with, Beka leaned back and thought it over. 

Why would Harper be so upset that that she changed his shirt? It couldn't possibly be that he thought she'd steal his shirt. No way. 

Then what?  
Biting her lip, she mulled it over. She was about to turn to him and demand to know what the hell he was talking about, when she remembered what he had said earlier. 

"You saw."

Suddenly, it all became clear. He'd been talking about the horrible scars she and Rev had seen. 

The same ones Harper had been hiding for nearly three years. 

Sighing, she briefly closed her eyes. 

"Harper—"

"Don't Harper me! You ain't had no right to see 'em! They's my business and they ain't yours." He spat back angrily. 

Opening her eyes, Beka sat up straight and twisted around to face him. 

"Harper—" her voice was still soft and patient.

"I ain't wanna hear it, boss!" He snarled, glaring at her. 

Beka's patience ran out. "Harper, if you don't drop that attitude right now, I'm going to get up and leave and you can sit here until next year and I wouldn't care. You can give that attitude to anyone else, but with me, you leave it at the door. You know that."

Harper didn't argue with that. He never did when Beka used her captain voice. Nobody did. 

They lapsed back into silence, until Harper's anger gradually faded and something that resembled shame flickered across his face. 

Beka caught sight of it before it disappeared. 

She sighed. "Harper, yes, I saw them. And yes, I was shocked. And angry. And upset. Not at you, but the disgusting beasts who did that to you. But you knew that I'd feel that way. That's why I don't understand why you're sitting here, angry at the universe and giving me that snarky attitude."

Harper bit his lip and didn't answer. Beka right away changed tactics and started with the usual guessing game. Searching his face for any more signs he might be giving her, Beka fished around for guesses. 

The first guess which hit her obviously wasn't her favourite. Her eyes widening, she sat up with a jerk and looked at Harper, her eyes filling with worry. 

"Don't tell me you think you deserved that, Harper!" she demanded softly. 

Harper gave her a tiny smile and shifted around. Quietly, he shook his head, slightly amused by the relief which settled around her. 

"No, boss. I know I ain't deserve that and that nobody deserved to be treated like that. You taught me that." He said quietly, pulling at a loose thread from his cargo pants. 

Beka gave him a proud smile. "Damn straight."

For a while, they lapsed into silence again, until Beka realized she still hadn't hit the nail over the head. 

She decided to try another guess. 

"Well, if that wasn't it, then what the hell is it? Are you scared they'll get their hands on you again, shorty? I hope you know that I won't let anybody lay a hand on you, especially those Nietzschean bastards unless its over my dead body and this ship's crushed, empty hull. You know that."

He smiled quietly, gratitude shining quietly in his eyes. He shook his head again. "No, it ain't that."

She sighed again, relieved once more, but then she frowned at him with worry. "Well then spit it out already! I'm all out of guesses and we do have somewhere to be in approximately two hours. I doubt our client would agree to negotiate salvaging terms sitting behind a slipstream drive in engineering."

Harper chuckled quietly at that and waggled his eyebrows. "Well, we could always suggest other activities we could do behind here. I think he'd be much more willing to negotiate."

Beka rolled her eyes, smiled and muttered something over him being impossible and then gently wacked him over the back of the head. 

Besides, she pointed out, he was changing the subject and that wouldn't be getting them out of engineering faster.

Sighing, Harper's smile faded. When Beka poked him in the side, he just pulled his knees up tighter. 

"Come on, shorty. What is it?"

He shrugged. She rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. Tell me what the hell is bothering you."

Keeping his eyes glued to the floor, he finally sighed and leaned back against the wall. 

"I'm ashamed, boss."

He'd said the words so quietly that Beka had to learn forward to hear them. When the muttered words registered, she leaned back, looking slightly relieved. I think she had been fearing something worse. 

She gave a quiet laugh. He glared at her. "It ain't funny."

Shaking her head a little, she gently touched his arm. "Harper, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. But you shouldn't be ashamed of the scars. They show you're a survivor. They show that a little mudfoot like you can survive anything those damn beasts throw your way."

He glared at her. "You don't understand, boss."

"Then make me understand."

He slowly shook his head. "No, captain. Not this. I can't." He whispered, the words laced with pain. 

Beka quietly searched his face with worried eyes before realizing he wasn't going to let this go any further. She decided to give it one more shot.

"Whatever it is, Harper, you don't have to fight through it on your own. I can help. I want to help."

He shook his head. "I can't, boss. Not this. You've helped me with everything else, but you can't help me with this."

Beka shook her head. "That's not good enough, Harper. You have to give me a reason. If it's good enough, I'll back off, but not until then."

He sighed softly and stared at her, his eyes filled with sadness and that look which made him look years older than Beka.

"Beka, I've told you a lot about earth and what goes on down there. And you've always listened and helped me through it. Even if you didn't want to hear it, you forced yourself to listen so you could help me. But I won't tell you about this. I won't tell you how I got those scars. It's not because I don't want to talk about it, but because I want to spare you that. You deserve not to know, Beka. I'm not gonna make you suffer just because you might be able to help me. This is something I have to get through on my own."

Beka looked like she was going to protest, but he clenched his jaw. "Don't fight me on this, boss. Please." He whispered. 

Beka stared at him for a while longer until she quietly nodded. "Alright. I'll back off. But only if you promise to tell me and let me in if things get too tough, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

She wasn't convinced. "Promise?"

"Promise."

She gave him her little half smile before leaning forward and giving him a fierce hug. He hugged her back, briefly clinging to her before letting her go. 

"I'm always here when you need me, shorty. You know that."

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, boss."

Grinning, she gently ruffled his hair before pulling herself up and crawling out from behind the slipstream drive. 

Dusting herself off and pulling her clothes on straight, she made her way to the door. Stepping through it, she walked far enough until she dropped off my motion sensors and I closed the door. She stood there, her ears straining to hear a sound coming from the still room.

A few minutes after Beka left, Harper crawled out too and dusted himself off before he went to check on my AG field generator. 

When he passed the door, he glanced toward it, knowing full well Beka was still standing there, waiting to make sure he was going to get up on his own. 

Smiling and slightly shaking his head, he didn't say anything but proceeded to bang a few tools around so that Beka could hear him.

He knew it was something she needed to hear. 

Just like he probably knew she would, Beka stood there for a few minutes until she heard Harper messing around in engineering. Then she smiled, hugged herself and turned towards the kitchen, ready to greet our next client. 

Nobody ever brought up the scars after that day. A few months later, Rev told Harper he'd operate on Harper's rib if Harper let him and set it straight for him. At first, Harper was reluctant and became viciously defensive, but when Rev explained that he wasn't going to say or do anything else, Harper relented. Although Rev quietly told him that most of the scars could be removed, Harper fiercely snarled off the idea. We all knew it was because he was too ashamed to go around flaunting his flaws to strangers. 

Unlike most of his other flaws, he couldn't cover this one up with a smile and an obnoxious remark. All he could do was keep his shirt on all the time and even engage privacy mode when he was changing or having a shower. 

Oh, Andromeda knows about the scars. She'd noticed them the very first time she'd run a thorough scan on her new crew.

But she could tell from Harper's self-conscious attitude that he wasn't comfortable discussing it and she always refrained from bringing it up. 

Beka has never pushed Harper about it or attempted to make him feel less ashamed. What Harper had said was true. She didn't understand enough to be able to stand there and tell him how he should feel. And a small part of her didn't want to understand. 

Harper had known that. That's why he didn't tell her. 

It's amazing how well my engineer can read people. It's something I've noticed among people who come from less than stellar backgrounds. 

They have an amazing ability to read and understand people. By a single glance or word, they can tell exactly what kind of person you are and how you feel and how you'd react to certain situations. 

If one would take Hohne and someone like Harper's mother and put them in a dangerous situation, there would be no doubt in my mind as to who would help the other through the situation and be able to know exactly what to say to make the other person feel at ease. 

They might not have the money, education, manners and priviledges, but their instincts were something which some of the most fortunate among us have a severe lack of.

It's one of the universe's endless and slightly twisted attempts at humor. 

Database Records Archive: 111 (10085)

Specific Time: A month before new year 

More Specific Time: About two weeks after Harper's three months of knowledge absorption had slowed down.

We'd been docked at Gallarus Drift for three days. Beka was off hunting AP pipe cleaning fluid and business deals, Harper was looking for spare parts, flexis and a new nanowelder and Rev was buying food, shampoo and all the other odds and ends we never realized we needed until we did. 

My crew would drift back to me at random times during the day and night, lunging huge packages and bags of supplies in, leaving them dumped in the doorway and then lock my airlock and run off again, looking for cheap deals and stupid traders who wouldn't know the worth of what they were selling if it was painted on their foreheads. Rev always felt bad about taking advantage of such people, but Harper reasoned with him that at least he wasn't stealing it from them and the money they were asking for was the money they needed, so really, everybody ended up happy. Beka grinned and exclaimed that maybe Harper ended up a little happier than he should, but he stuck his tongue out at her. 

We were supposed to meet with a Makra trader at the drift in two days who was supposed to give us a huge shipment of weapons and medical herbs and books which we were to cart from one end of the galaxy to the other. Well, not literally, but the chart he'd downloaded into my database would suggest as much. Not only was the trip going to be long, but we would mainly be travelling through empty space which meant no supply drifts or repair stations. My crew had right away gone to work making sure I was prepared for the trip. Bribing, lying and crying their way from trader to trader, booth to booth, they managed to acquire everything we needed from spare parts to food, only using the tiny amount of money we'd scraped together for ourselves. 

I was impatiently sitting in my berth, anxiously checking my external sensors for any signs of Harper and Rev. 

Beka had been back for hours and she was busy unpacking all of their accumulated bundles and checking to make sure we had enough Sparky's for Harper, CD's for her and books for Rev. 

Finally, I saw them. Rev had his robe pulled around himself and was mumbling 'excuse me's' around himself as he made his way through a group of people. 

Harper was coming up from the opposite side of him, having cut through two booths and earned the yelling and cursings of the surprised booth owners, the more vocal of the two being a Nightsider. I didn't realize why he was yelling at him until I noticed that Harper had swiped a package of datachips off his booth. 

Realizing he'd been caught, Harper turned around, shot the Nightsider a grin and tossed the package back to him, telling him to keep a better eye on his stuff if he wanted to keep it. 

Rev smiled when he saw. Harper came up to him and grinned at him. 

"Hey, Rev. Find everything?"

Rev nodded. That was when I noticed he was clutching something underneath his robe. Harper curiously frowned at his robe.

"Whatcha got underneath the robe?"

Rev grinned. "Nothing that would interest you, Master Harper."

Harper scowled. "Bull. Let me see."

Rev shook his head. "Patience, Harper, patience. I'll show you when we're inside."

He rolled his eyes and pulled the collar of his leather jacket up higher when he felt the greedy stares of two sleazy looking Runians on his port. 

Rev saw Harper's involuntary movement and he quickly searched the crowd. Realizing that the situation might turn ugly, he motioned for Harper to open my airlock. 

After he typed in the code, I opened the door for him and Harper jumped up and then turned around and grabbed the fabric bundle of stuff which Rev was handing up to him. Setting it down beside him, he reached down and helped the old Wayist up. 

Grabbing the door, he shot the two Runians dirty looks and then slammed my airlock shut, locking it with the new security codes he had installed a few months ago. 

Slowly, they made their way down the corridor, carrying Rev's bags and then went into the kitchen and dumped it onto the table. 

Beka was sitting on the counter, drinking a glass of milk and reading one of her 'special' holonovels. 

Harper grinned when he caught sight of the title out of the corner of his eye. Opening the fridge and tossing a bunch of packages of chicken into it, he grinned at Beka. 

"Always good to see you reading educational stuff, boss. Really makes your brain work, doesn't it?"

Beka gave him a dirty look before trying to take a swipe at him with the flexi. Harper ducked out of the way, laughed and tossed a bag of spare parts into the doorway of the kitchen which he would take into engineering later. 

Rev chuckled as he finished putting various odds and ends into cupboards.

Beka turned on the fluorescent pink screen marker and turned the flexi off. Tossing it onto the counter beside her, she glanced over at the bag of spare parts Harper had thrown into the doorway. 

"Did you get everything, shorty?"

Harper nodded. "I had to wrangle my way into a couple of peoples good graces to get them to part with their precious belongings, but they loved my natural charm and good looks so much that they were willing to negotiate."

Rev smiled. "Yes, threatening people with their lives could result in them being more negotiable."

Harper pretended to be offended. "Rev, I'm appalled. I didn't threaten them. I merely said that I had a magog as a buddy who'd be glad to help me convince them to part with their stuff. Sure, I didn't tell them you were a Wayist, but hey, trivial little details don't count."

Beka laughed and rolled her eyes. "Well, at least you got everything. Did you get your nanowelder?"

He grinned. "I got it, yeah."

Beka narrowed her eyes at the grin. "Don't tell me you stole it."

He shook his head, still grinning. "Nah. I just stumbled on it lying in someone's tool kit and the vendor guy was busy, so I took the welder and left him thirty thrones in the tool kit."

When Rev and Beka both sighed, he held up his hands defensively. "But hey! I even tucked the money away safely so nobody else would steal it. Sure, the guys missing a nanowelder, but he got thirty thrones. And thirty thrones for a beaten up, crappy, second hand nanowelder is damn good if you ask me." He scowled at them when they rolled their eyes and sighed at him again. 

"And I don't see either of you two explaining where you managed to scrape up AP valve cleaning fluid. That stuff's supposed to be impossible to get. I asked about a million people and they all just looked at me like I was insane."

Beka laughed and glanced at Rev. "Well, we had to get deep and dirty, but we found it."

"How?" Harper demanded to know, obviously still smarting over the fact that he hadn't found it. 

Rev smiled. "Well, we stumbled upon this well mannered gentleman—"

"He was a Nethyl dealer, Rev. Nethyl dealers aren't gentleman."

Rev scowled and waved off the comment. "It doesn't matter to me what someone's occupation is. What matters to me is whether or not they act decently and nicely to people they meet until they have reason to do otherwise. This person fit the bill, which is why I call him a gentleman. Anyway, we explained our dilemna and he told us that the bartender at that little corner bar—"

"The one beside the Irullian fabric booth?" Harper interupted, snapping open a can of Sparky.

Rev nodded. "That's the one. So, the gentleman told us the bartender had some cleaning fluid he might be willing to part with if it was for a good enough price. Upon further questioning we discovered that the bartender was also a Nethyl addict. So, we bought some Nethyl from the gentleman, thanked him for his time—"

"Correction, you thanked him, Rev. I just glared at him and told him to stop staring at my chest before I dug his eyes out with forks."

Rolling his eyes, Rev ignored her. "So we took the Nethyl over to the bar and Beka cajoled and argued and seduced her way into his good graces and we finally made the deal."

Harper laughed at the story while Beka shuddered from disgust at the memory. She shot Harper a dirty look. "You can stuff it, Seamus, or do you want to be cleaning exhaust valves for the next year?"

Abruptly, Harper turned his laugh into a cough and pretended to be contemplating the table. 

Beka and Rev then started discussing whether or not they'd have to clear out the storage closet to make the extra space necessary for carting our next shipment. 

Harper was glancing between the two of them. "Why do we need the closet? We've got loads of room up in the cargo hold."

Beka rolled her eyes. "Yeah, we're supposed to have enough room up there, but it's so full of junk that we can't even put half of it in there."

Harper rolled his eyes. "And we would have enough room if _somebody_ didn't throw their junk up there everytime she was too lazy to walk to the garbage chute."

Beka scowled. "Hey! That's useful stuff up there! All of my dad's old stuff and Rafe's old junk and my childhood things are up there."

Harper's eyes softened when he remembered what he had seen that day long ago when he had crept up there and had seen the crate full of Beka's mother's belonging, including that picture. 

He glanced at her. "If you want boss, I can bring most of that stuff down into the storage closet tomorrow. I don't know about you, but I'd feel a lot better if all that stuff's sitting in the closet where we can keep an eye on it. Besides, there's a leaky pipe up there somewhere and if any water gets into those crates, you can kiss all the stuff in them goodbye."

Beka smiled at the offer. "That'd be great, shorty. Thanks. I'll help you drag it down tomorrow, and while we're at it, we can sort through the stuff too. Some of Rafe's old clothes might fit you and I think I have some of my dad's old holo-novels up there too somewhere. If there's any more room in that over-stuffed brain of yours, I think you might like them."

Grinning at her and already getting excited over the prospect of stuffing more things into his brain, Harper was starting to shift around, when he suddenly remembered that mysterious object Rev had carried underneath his robe.

He spun around and gave Rev the grin which matched the devils. "So, Mister Reverend, you never finished telling me what you were carrying underneath that robe of yours."

Rev smiled. "You've never been one for patience, have you, Master Harper?" Turning around, he bent down and rummaged through the last bag of personal items which lay beside the table. Pulling out a small black device, he gently put it onto the table. 

Beka hopped off the counter and Harper leaning in closer, both of them staring at it curiously.

Harper immediately recognized it. He'd downloaded a huge list of recording devices from twenty-one different cultures some time last week. Again, it was one of those things he didn't really need to know, but insisted on cramming into his mind. 

"It's a camera." He exclaimed, grinning. 

Beka was frowning at Rev. "Rev, where the hell did you find a camera on this drift?"

Rev smiled. "Well, the vendor unfortunately thought it was just a broken lighting device since it only flashed and turned on when you pressed a button. I don't think he understood the difference between a camera and a lighting device, but I thought it would be better to relieve him of his burden rather than explain. He only asked three thrones for it. It was too good of a bargain to turn away." He tried to sound apologetic, but Harper and Beka both grinned at him and Harper poked him in the ribs, calling him a hypocrite. 

While Rev started denying it and pretending to be insulted, Beka was gently turning the small device over in her hands. 

Unscrewing the back of it, she peered inside and frowned. "Well, it's a little broken, Rev, but it doesn't look unfixable."

She handed it to Harper who briefly skimmed it. "Piece of cake. I can have this baby up and running in half an hour."

Beka leaned back against the counter. "So," she smiled at Rev. "What are we planning on doing with this little device once it works, huh?"

Rev smiled. "Well, we have a long trip ahead of us and this might a source of entertainment, and besides, I've been thinking about it and we don't have any pictures of any of us. I think it's time we made a few. Even though this old camera only has enough film for five pictures, we could make good use of it."


	43. Chapter 43

The Diaries 

Chapter 43

Database Records Archive: 112 (10085)

Specific Time: Three days later

The first of the five precious pictures my crew took with Rev's camera was an accidental one. After Harper had spent twenty minutes tinkering around with it, swearing and giving it leering, flirty looks as if he could seduce it into working order, it finally worked. 

He had bounced into the kitchen, grinning and smirking over his genius talents. Unfortunately, Beka and Rev were just finishing moping up the floor onto which Beka had spilt a bowl of dough. The entire floor was slippery and the grating was slick with water and soap. 

Harper had just enough time to open his mouth to announce his accomplishment, when his legs went flying from under him and he slid across the kitchen, his glee turning into a small cry of astonishment as he hit the ground. 

Beka and Rev spun around and immediately surrounded him, helping him up, wringing the water out of his shirt and telling him to watch where he was going. All the while, they were trying desperately to control their laughter over seeing Harper slide across the kitchen, his shirt and pants getting soaked. Beka could hardly breathe as she howled with laughter and wiped a smudge of soap bubbles off his cheek while she wiped her own tears off her cheek. 

At the time, Harper hadn't even realized he'd taken the picture. As he had fallen, he'd clutched the camera tightly in his hand and had instinctively thrown his hand up to keep himself from crushing the camera by his fall. 

As he fell, his finger had pressed the button on top of the old camera and the shutter had clicked and had taken the picture. 

We only discovered the picture later on, after Harper had developed the picture in the darkness of the storage closet using chemicals he had found lying around the cargo hold. He had laughed and had called Beka and Rev over to show them the picture. As soon as they saw it, they dissolved into laughter and poked Harper in the ribs and Beka ruffled his hair as Harper tried to appear dignified and ignore their laughter. 

On the picture, Beka and Rev are both standing behind the table, having spun around when they heard Harper fall. 

Beka's hair is lying in wild tangled knots, strands and curls having escaped from the neat bun she had tried coaxing them into. Rev's medallion is flung over his shoulder from the speed at which he had spun around. Beka is wearing bright orange gloves and had just dropped the mop she had been holding. Rev is holding the table with one hand after he narrowly avoided tripping over the bucket of water at his feet. His other hand is stretched out, trying to catch Harper before he fell. Beka's eyes are filled with worry and a small hint of fear as she sees Harper sliding across the kitchen and landing with a thud on the floor. 

But the smiles are what always catch my sensors attention. Both of them are laughing hysterically despite their obvious surprise. 

Harper had left this picture onboard me when we had met the Andromeda. He has it tacked up in the engineering room next to a diagnostic console. 

Everytime he comes in to check something with my systems, he always takes a minute to lightly run a finger across the picture and Rev and Beka's frozen smiles. Hearing their silent laughter in his mind and feeling the warmth which radiates from the picture, he always has a small, content smile on his face when he sees it. 

Database Records Archive: 113 (10085)

Specific Time: Two days later

Another picture was taken late one night during an all nighter my crew had pulled. Beka had put me on auto-pilot and my crew had gone into the crew quarters. 

We were flying through Nietzschean space—I don't remember what pride. Sorry. Memory's a little blurry—and Beka didn't want to risk anything happening while we slept, so she had cheerfully declared that my entire crew would stay up all night and would sleep during the day. If everything went right, we'd be out of Uber space by morning. 

While Beka and Rev had made hot chocolate in the kitchen and had hunted up a pack of cards, Harper had gone to Beka's room and had brought her pillows and blanket over to Vex's old bunk which was now Rev's. Standing on the edge of it, he reached up and pulled his own stuff down and dumped it onto the bunk below. Sitting on the huge pile of pillows and blankets, he tossed them around and wedged them up against the wall until he was surrounded by a warm, soft cave of pillows and blankets. 

When Beka and Rev came in, they carefully set the mugs of steaming hot chocolate onto the table Harper had dragged over and then let themselves fall into the downy pile of softness. Snuggling in, they laughed and swore at each other as they all tried to find a comfortable spot and snatch as many pillows to themselves as they could. When they had snuggled in, Beka started shuffling the cards and Rev and Harper took quiet sips of their hot chocolate. Dealing them out, she asked them what they were going to play. 

Rev held his hands up and said it didn't matter to him and Harper immediately piped up with "Vedran whist". Beka always rolled her eyes at that. 

"Harper, why do you even want to play it? You always lose and you know it."

Harper glared at her and sent a pillow flying in her direction, which she easily avoided. 

"I don't always lose. I'm just…I let you guys win."

Rev laughed while he picked up the cards Beka tossed him. "You're such a generous person, Master Harper. It never fails to bring me to tears."

Scowling at him, Harper snuggled into his pillows, ignoring their laughter. 

"Shut up and hit me." 

Beka tossed him another card. Picking it up, Harper quickly glanced over the triangles and diamond shapes on the octagonal shaped card and groaned. Throwing his cards down, he declared he was out. 

When Beka started laughing at him with that 'I told you so' look on her face, Harper scowled and was about to throw another pillow at her, but then realized he didn't want to lose it so he shoved it behind him and just glared at her. 

They played for about half an hour until Beka declared her eyesight was going blurry from constantly looking at the small shapes on the cards. Putting them on a pile on a blanket, Beka shoved them together and tossed them onto the table. 

It was then that she spied the camera lying there. 

"Hey, it's our camera! Who brought it in here?"

Rev smiled. "Me. I figured we might as well start the roll."

Grinning, Beka picked it up and then glanced at Harper, who was nursing his hot chocolate, still sulking over losing nearly all of their games, and Rev, who was snuggled peacefully in his blankets. 

She reached over and poked Harper in the ribs. He nearly spilled his hot chocolate as he jerked and glared at her. 

"What?" he mumbled. 

She grinned at him and snatched the hot chocolate from his hands and put it on the table. 

"I want to take a picture, shorty. One which includes you. But I don't want to have a picture of you lying there sulking."

He narrowed his eyes. "Well that's the only kind of picture you're going to get."

Beka cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Rev out of the corner of her eye. "Really?"

Before Harper could give her another snarky response, Beka and Rev both leapt on him and attacked him, tickling him mercilessly as he shrieked and tried to fight them off. 

Squirming and trying to dig himself deeper into his pile of blankets, he gasped for air as he swore for them to stop, all the while, laughing so hard he nearly cried. 

He didn't fight as hard as he could have. Not by a long shot. He could have easily punched, kicked and clawed his way away from them, but not before doing some serious damage to both Rev and Beka. He had learned over the years how to fight gently and playfully without the outcome in his mind being to get away from the people around him no matter what the costs were. 

When Beka and Rev finally backed off, laughing and ruffling Harper's hair, they all fell back against their pillows. 

As they lay there, gasping for breath, their shirts wrinkled and their hair all over the place, Beka reached over and took the camera. 

Snuggling closer to Harper and motioning for Rev to squish in too, they all grinned, still half laughing as the camera took the picture. 

Setting the camera down, Beka picked up her hot chocolate and then leaned back. Asking me what time it was, she rolled her eyes when I told her it was 0200 hours. 

We still had a long night to go. 

Snuggling back against Harper and the blankets, Beka yawned and asked Harper to tell them a story. 

Yawning in response to her yawn, he asked what story she wanted to hear. 

She shrugged. Harper turned to Rev. "You got any preferences?" The Wayist thought it over for a moment. 

"What about those Than fairytales you were telling us a few weeks ago? You never finished one of them."

Harper frowned for a moment, trying to remember. Then he smiled. "Yeah, sure I remember that one. And I know some others too." Harper grinned at Rev. "Why the sudden interest in fairytales my dear Reverend?"

Rev grinned. "They have good moral lessons in them and they are wise tales of caution."

Harper rolled his eyes. "Figures. You couldn't just like them because they're good stories."

Beka laughed and then told him to shut up and tell the story, since she liked the story not only because it was good, but because it was her shorty telling it to her.

Grinning at her, Harper settled back and told them the story. He was only interupted twice, once by Beka and once by Rev when the two of them pointed out inconsistencies with the story Harper was telling them now and the other version he had told them a few weeks ago. Harper rolled his eyes and told them to respect the storyteller and to be quiet or else he'd stop. 

Smiling at him, they obediently quietened down. Beka poked him in the ribs once before leaning back and closing her eyes, listening to the story. 

A few hours later, Rev was the only one who was awake. He quietly picked up Beka's cup from where it lay beside her and gently pried Harper's cup out of his grasp, nearly waking him in the process. Then he leaned over and pulled blankets over both of them, gently tugging a strand of hair off Beka's cheek and smoothing an equally unruly strand off Harper's forehead. 

Leaning back against his wall of pillows, he quietly asked me to dim the lights and he settled back, ready to wait out the long night and make sure I stayed out of any danger while the rest of my crew slept. 

The picture taken that night stands in a rusty picture frame which Harper had bought Beka as a birthday present a few months after the picture was taken. The picture stands on the small table beside Beka's bed in her quarters. 

She didn't take it with her when we moved onto the Andromeda. She had always said that it belonged to me as much as it belonged to her. Besides, she continued sleeping on me for a long time after we met the Andromeda, and she often comes down to spend her nights down here still, so really, the picture is still close to her.

Sometimes, when she has a bad day or is upset about something, she'd come into her quarters and take the picture and lies down on her bed, staring at it.

Their three faces stare back at her, laughing in frozen joy, their eyes shining. Beka and Harper's shirts are slightly rumpled and her hair is flying all over her face in unruly curls and strands. 

Harper is clutching his mug in his hands and Rev's medallion glints in the light as he leans against Harper. 

She'd quietly stare at the picture, gently running her fingers across it, remembering the laughter, the joy and the happiness. When things got hard, that picture was the only thing to keep her going. 

Database Records Archive: 114 (10085)

Specific Time: A week later

Rev took the next picture. It's a simple one, really. Beka is sitting in my piloting chair, the seatbelt around her and her hands on the controls. She's laughing over something while her eyes stare at the debris field before her. Harper is sitting on the railing behind her, his eyes twinkling with crude humor as he laughs at the obscene joke he just made. 

Rev had just come into the cockpit with the camera, intent on using up one more of the pictures and when he saw the two of them laughing together, he took the picture. 

He keeps the pictures in his quarters on the Andromeda. He had bought himself a picture frame for it a few months after it was taken and he had kept it beside his bunk in my crew quarters, but had moved it into his new quarters when we met the Andromeda. 

He keeps the picture on a table in his quarters right beside his meditation candles and a pile of his precious books. Andromeda tells me that he often looks at the picture and gently brushed a claw against it and smiles to himself, remembering easier times. 

Database Records Archive: 115 (10085)

Specific Time: Five days later

The second to last picture we took with our precious camera was one when my crew was sitting at dinner eating spaghetti. They had all shoved their plates together and were dreading the thought of doing dishes when Rev had pulled out the camera. 

Immediately, thoughts of washing dishes flew out the airlock and they all squished their chairs together, joking around and cramming close enough until Beka could snap the picture. 

This picture used to hang in my cockpit, right beside the navigational controls. Beka used to glance at it from time to time to reassure her of her crews presence. 

It's in Dylan's quarters now.

Now, the picture stands in an expensive, silver picture frame which I'm told was a gift from Admiral Stark. 

About a year ago, Dylan had been walking through my corridors, talking to Beka and he had glimpsed the picture hanging in engineering and the one in Beka's quarters. When he'd seen the one in the cockpit, he'd sighed a little sadly. After Beka asked him what was wrong, he'd shrugged as if it wasn't important, but after Beka had pushed him, he'd admitted that it saddened him not to have any pictures of them all together. 

He had pretended it wasn't a big deal, but Beka could tell he had been a little hurt by seeing the pictures. I guess it was because he was a little jealous of the closeness which the pictures radiate. The happiness. The trust. The pictures always made him feel as if he was some kind of intruder on the little crew Beka used to have. In many ways, he had been. But in other ways, it was my crew which had been the intruders on his life. 

In order to make him feel a little more included and show him how willing Beka was to blend not only their crews and ships, but their lives, she had given him that picture. 

He'd nearly cried when she'd handed it to him. The very next day, he'd gone tearing through one storage bay after another until he found the silver picture frame which had been sitting in an old crate for years, completely forgotten. It had been a present from Admiral Constanza Stark when he had been given command of the Andromeda. He always said that he had never found an important enough picture to put into the frame, but now he had found it. 

I still think it's hilarious. That wrinkled, poorly lit picture of Beka, Rev and Harper all grinning at the camera, their hair all over the place, their smiles lighting up their eyes and a pile of dirty dishes before them. Now it's stuck in an expensive, silver picture frame which had been a present from an Admiral over three hundred years ago. Strangely enough, the picture doesn't look out of place, but looks like it was always meant to be there. 

In many ways, that picture represents exactly what these two crews had become. 

Database Records Archive: 116 (10085)

Specific Time: Three days later

The last picture was taken the day we had finally reached our destination. It was strangely fitting for the last picture to be taken on the day that our long haul was over. 

Rev and Beka had just opened the airlock after landing me in a docking station. Males and females of various species were already hard at work in my cargo hold, lifting crates out, lowering them to the ground and yelling around until somebody came and hauled them away. 

Harper had been in engineering, making sure my new security system was functioning. 

On his way out the door, he'd spied the camera sitting on a console and he'd grabbed it. Running down the corridor towards the airlock, he hollered for Beka and Rev to wait up. 

Having just opened my airlock, Beka waited for Rev to jump out before she yelled at Harper to hurry up and jumped out herself. Harper half flipped and half fell out of my airlock before Beka slammed it shut and keyed in the new codes Harper had installed. 

My cargo hold had been detached from me and had been lowered to the berth beside me. Beka always insisted on this so that my crew could get out and stretch their legs while our cargo was being unloaded without worrying over strangers rummaging through me. 

Checking to make sure I was locked up tight and yelling at somebody to stop rummaging through our delivered cargo, Beka spun around, ready to walk around and take a break from cargo hauling. 

The station really wasn't much. It was mainly used as a rendez-vous point for ships such as ours where cargo would be dropped off, paid for and another ship would take it to its next destination. 

Asides from huge stretches of berths and various types of ships and the odd shop, there wasn't much else to it. 

But my crew decided to make the most of it. I kept as close of an eye on them as I could, making sure they stayed out of trouble. They mostly kept close to me and didn't drop off my external sensors range. I was thankful. I knew that none of them liked being away from me while people were crawling all over me and were unloading cargo, just in case somebody got greedy and nosy and decided to unload some things which weren't cargo. 

So my crew wandered around, glaring at potential pick pockets, shoving through noisy, rude crowds and mumbling excuse me's as they wound their way around people. Keeping a wary eye on me, they walked around and looked over the other ships strewn around the station. There was a huge assortment of different ships. Gliders, fighters, haulers, carriers and family ships lay around in various shapes, colors and metals. Harper ran around them, pointing out interesting things on the ships—such as specific alloys which were used in the hulls and weird antennas and other attachments which he swore had the purpose he was describing. He'd point out sophisticated security systems and technically advanced external sensors and other little gimmicks he could see and identify after wading through the mess of knowledge which was his brilliant mind. 

Rev and Beka listened quietly, Rev mostly being quietly amused and Beka taking it seriously. Every once in a while, Harper would poke her in the ribs and point out something which he thought he'd be able to install on the Maru. Then Beka would try to find the owner of the ship and flirt her way into their good graces until she could coax out of them a little bit of information which would be enough for Harper to go on. 

By the time the cargo had been unloaded and the cargo haulers were wiping the sweat off their foreheads and were yelling at each other about going and having a drink, my crew slowly wandered back to me. 

Although the docking patrol they'd run into had said we were welcome to stay the night, my crew had declined the offer. All of them felt safer when a good distance of black space seperated them from anything threatening. 

After Beka had disengaged the security system and had opened my airlock, Harper grinned and fished the camera out of his toolbelt. 

Beka had rolled her eyes and said she was too tired to grin for a picture, but Rev and Harper both scowled at that. 

Rolling her eyes, Beka hopped up and sat on the edge of my airlock, her legs dangling over the edge. 

"Alright, but get this over with quickly. I wanna be out of here before the station lights dim."

Rev climbed up beside her and both of them grinned tiredly at the camera while Harper took the picture. Lowering, he gave it a sad smile as they listened to it rewind. 

"Well, that's it. That was the last one."

Beka rolled her eyes again and pulled herself up, dusting her pants off. "And not a moment too soon. My face was starting to crack from the constant grinning." She muttered, pretending to be upset. 

Harper laughed, called a liar and swung up after her, slamming my airlock shut behind him. 

That last picture is in Harper's toolbelt. He'd cut the egdges off it and had coated it with a thick plastic which would keep it smooth and unwrinkled. Not even the scathing exhaust from the AP tanks could melt the plastic or damage the picture. 

He keeps it tucked in a special little side pocket in his tool belt, safely hidden from prying eyes and snatching hands. 

And now, go vote for your favourite stories while I put the finishing touches on chapter 44. You guys do your part, I'll do mine. J


	44. Chapter 44

The Diaries Chapter 44 

Author's Ramble: My sincere apologies for how long this took. I actually had it written quite a while ago, but final exams are evil and kept me away from the computer and the net for the past week. Again, I apologize. But I have good news. Exams are (nearly) over so I expect this story to advance in leaps and bounds in the next few weeks. Who know, I might actually finish this thing (_Raven ducks down as people start throwing things at her and booing_). I know, I know, but people, every story needs to end at some point, doesn't it?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next two chapters. I should warn you. Chapter 45 has some slipstream techno-babble in it which I invented and had a blast with. If it doesn't make any sense, just roll your eyes at me, sigh and please forgive me. Have fun reading and tell me whether you loved it, hated it or laughed through it due to the techno-babble nonsense.

Database Records Archive: 117 (10088)

While the last few records have been playing, I've been sorting through the next batch of records and find them surprisingly monotone. Nothing overly exciting happened to my crew during the next few months. They did a few runs, Harper got drunk and nearly got arrested, Rev went to a retreat, Beka bought those fuzzy black dice she keeps in the cockpit and Harper got the Terallian flu which left him sneezing, coughing and feverish for five days until the fever finally broke and he fought it off. 

So, in order to keep Andromeda's interest peaked, I'll skip over that batch and continue onto some more interesting records which have just caught my eye. 

I know they'll be interesting. After all, they all include me. Don't roll your eyes at me, Andromeda. It's rude and just might result in me deleting my memory archives, and then what would you have to entertain you?

Database Records Archive: 118 (10086)

Specific Time: Five months later

I hate these kinds of runs. I sincerely, utterly hate these kinds of runs. The kinds which my captain and crew are forced to take because we're so broke that they can't even afford to feed themselves, never mind pay off the taxes the FTA have been dumping on us. 

Out of desperation, hunger and the need to pay off 'those FTA money guzzlers' my captain decided to tak this risky run. Usually, my captain avoided runs which involved shipping illegal goods to places. She hated the suspicion she had to deal with, the nosy glares of the docking patrol and the general tenseness and nervousness which accompanied these runs and which she never had to deal with when we were salvaging a broken old ship or were dragging medical books to a Wayist colony. 

But, just as beggars can't be choosers, neither can cargo haulers. 

The run itself wasn't long. All we had to do was pick up a large shipment of illegal weapons from a run down docking station and deliver them to San-Ska-Ree. In order to make our drop-off more legitimate, we were also hoarding a large assortment of plants with us which were heading for a botany center on the Than homeworld. 

The actual run went off without a hitch. No roaming patrollers stopped us for inspection and even the docking patrol whom we contacted about docking had nothing to say. After docking, a group of eager amber Than swarmed me and started lunging the huge crates of plants and 'plants' out of my cargo hold. 

Beka and Harper kept a wary eye on the docking patrols who were roaming around, lest they decide to get nosy and snoop around in the cargo. In such cases, Beka and Harper threw themselves at the suspicious, nosy patrols and suffocated them with flirtations and inane questions until their heads were spinning and they had forgotten about their inspection. 

Even after the cargo had been hauled away in small gliders, my boss and engineer didn't breathe easily. They waited tensely, trying to quench their nervousness as they glanced around themselves, wondering where the hell our client was who was supposed to pay us. 

Harper sat in my airlock, swinging his legs around, whistling a tune to himself and Beka was leaning against my hull, her arms crossed, eyes constantly scanning around. 

Finally, Harper's whistling died off and he nodded is chin towards an approaching figure. 

The green Than sidled up to us and gave us a quiet, polite nod. She was clutching a robe around herself. 

"Thank you for the prompt delivery. We have been anxiously awaiting this shipment. The…botany center will be very pleased." She murmured in that irritating, gravelly voice which was a given from their kind when speaking common.

Beka nodded and held her hand out for the credit chip. The Than reached into her robe and pulled out the disk. Beka tossed it to Harper who glanced it over, making sure it was legit. Then he shifted around and quickly pulled a datachip scanner out of his toolbelt and stuck the chip in. 

Typing around, he nodded when he saw the amount. 

Seeing his nod, Beka turned back to the Than and gave her a tight nod. 

"I was glad to help you out. Hope the plants are all in good condition, but honestly, I couldn't care less. But as you know, if any of the plants have…withered or been damaged in any way, our contract clearly stated that you can't hold us responsible." Beka gave her a tight smile. "In other words, this is the last time I'll ever see you if things go my way, which they almost always do."

The Than gave her a quiet nod, obviously getting the message that Captain Valentine didn't usually do these kinds of runs and hated doing them. 

Without waiting for a reply, Beka turned and leapt up into my airlock and told Harper to slam the airlock shut. Yelling to Rev that they'd gotten the money, my captain was already striding towards the cockpit, intent on leaving this run behind as quickly as possible. 

We didn't get too far. Luck, fate and probably even Rev's Divine weren't on our sides in this one. 

Beka had unlocked the docking clamps and had revved up the engines before basically tearing me out of the berth and out of the station and away from the beautiful, serene planet. 

We'd just broken through the atmosphere and were gliding through black space, when Rev's voice piped up from where he was manning the ops station. 

"Beka, I'm receiving a hail from the surface." Rev tried not to look too worried. "It's from docking patrol."

Beka's jaw tightened as she took a deep breath, tried to keep her features neutral and then reached up to the viewscreen. 

Pushing the little button, she pasted a wide grin on her face and greeted the glaring face of the amber Than which greeted her. 

"How may I help you, sir?" she asked, trying to sound cheery, easy going—and innocent. 

The Than glared at her and twittered something in squeaky, raspy Than which none of us could understand. 

"Captain Valentine, I must demand that you turn your ship around and return to the surface at once."

Beka cocked an eyebrow, looking confused. "But I just came from there, sir. I'm afraid I don't understand." While she was drowning him in her little innocent angle act, her hand was quietly shoving my controls forward, urging me to pick up speed. 

The Than didn't even blink. "We inspected the cargo you just delivered and found several crates of illegal weapons."

Beka's eyebrows flew up and she feigned surprise while she continued urging my controls forward. I struggled to force my old engines to keep up with my captain.

"Really? I was under the impression I was carrying plants. Oh, well. My mistake." She let out an airy laugh. "Happens to everyone. I'm sure you understand."

It wasn't working. The Than glared at her and repeated his demand that she turn around and come back. 

Seeing the situation wasn't going the way she'd hoped, she swore and immediately switched to plan B. When the talking fails, the running starts. 

It's something the old captain used to say. 

Reaching up, she cut the connection and then yelled for Rev to hang on. 

Leaning back, all traces of smiles and feigned ignorance wiped off her face, she shoved my controls forward and I shot through space. 

Moments later, Rev yelled over that he'd detected a pack of three gliders coming through the atmosphere towards them. 

She quickly jabbed around on the navigational screen beside her. Immediately, I transferred the data I was receiving from my external sensors onto the screen. Beka's eyes widened as she saw the approaching three red blips on the screen. 

Shoving the control forward, she gripped it hard as it shook under her hand. Although she was urging me to go faster, I couldn't. My engines were already smoking and rattling around and Harper was running around in engineering, desperately diverting power from every system he could get his hands on. 

Swearing and running a hand through her hair, Beka's pale face jerked up and she wildly clawed through the air towards the com button on the wall beside her. Pressing it, she screamed into it.

"Harper! I need more power! Now!"

Harper was hanging half off a ladder, trying to divert power from my back-up systems. Balancing on the ladder and hanging on with one hand, he swung through the air and hit the com button. Waving aside the clouds of smoke which were filling the room as my poor old engines overheated, he had to yell to be heard above the sounds of my emergency sirens going off. My engines don't like it when they're overheated. 

"I'm trying boss! All I've got left is slipstream drive, engines, illumination controls and life support!"

Beka bit her lip. "Leave the drive and life support but dump all the power from the stupid lights into the engines. Who cares if we can't see! If we don't move faster, we'll be too dead to see."

With that, she took her finger off the com button and waited, her eyes darting around from the windshield to the navigational screen. Nervously, both her and Rev waited while Harper ran around, trying to cut power to my overhead lights. 

I knew that the sound of my emergency siren was irritating all of them, but some safety controls prevented me from overriding them. I sighed. Who again was the stupid idiot who didn't give me an AI?!

Those thoughts of mine were interupted when the gliders started firing. Rev barely had time to shout a warning before I was hit. The impact made me shake violently and nearly threw my crew through the windshielf. 

Harper barely had time to grab hold of a console before he nearly went flying across engineering. He stumbled from the impact but immediately hauled himself back up and finished frantically diverting my power. I could feel the power draining from my illumination controls right away. Obeying his instructions, I shoved all that available power towards my poor, aching engines. 

Waving aside the smoke which engulfed him, he coughed a few times as he stumbled towards the door. Running through it, he struggled to stumble down the corridor as another missile hit me and he nearly slammed into a wall. 

Coughing and gasping for breath and ignoring the incessant wail of my emergency siren, he nearly fell into the cockpit. 

His eyes widened when he saw what had happened. The impact of the first shot had torn Beka's hand from the control she was so tightly clutching and the force of it had sprained her wrist. She'd cried out from the sudden pain, but hardly had time to react before her seatbelt yanked her back against the hard piloting chair, the back of her head smashing into the hard metal. 

She cried out again and gingerly reached up and pulled away a blood soaked hand. 

Immediately, Rev was beside her. Hanging onto the chair and struggling to remain standing as I shook and bucked all over place, he yelled for her not to move her wrist. 

Beka waved him away with her good wrist. "Get back to ops, Rev! We have to outrun these bastards! They'll kill us!" she screamed at him, trying to push him back towards the stair. 

Rev firmly shook his head. "You can't fly with that wrist, Beka! Let me fly!" he yelled back. 

That was when Harper came stumbling into the cockpit. He paled when he saw the blood pouring down Beka's back which stained her hair until it was a deep, ugly red. 

Beka could feel him standing behind her. She glanced at him. He gave her a nod. "I shoved every last bit we had to the engines. We don't got anything left."

Nodding, Beka reached for the control, but Rev pulled her hand away. Beka glared at him. "What the hell are you doing, Rev?" she screamed. "We have to get out of here!"

Ignoring her screaming, Rev turned to Harper and motioned for him to get the first aid kit. 

Harper leapt over the railing and grabbed the kit and tossed it to Rev who was pulling Beka out of her chair. 

Weak from the blood loss and the pain in her wrist, Beka didn't struggle. She weakly grabbed Rev and yelled at him to get into the piloting chair. 

Rev shook his head again. "I have to stop this bleeding Beka, and Harper doesn't know how! Harper will have to fly us out of here!"

Beka and Harper both stared at him as if he was nuts. Beka snapped first. "Are you nuts?! He can't fly!"

Rev ignored her and pulled her over and motioned for Harper to sit down in the piloting chair while he anxiously glanced at the navigational screen beside him. 

Harper's eyes widened and his face paled as if he still couldn't believe he was sitting there. 

"Rev! I can't do this!" he yelled, his voice filled with fear. 

Rev glanced at him, trust in his eyes. Beka was barely conscious and was slumped in his arms. He was throwing things out of the med kit as he grabbed a hypo for the pain and injected into Beka's neck.

"I trust you, Harper, and so does Beka. You can do this. Just take the control and push it forward. When you see something ahead of you, yank us out of the way."

Biting his lip and shoving his hysteria and fear out of the way, he weakly clutched the control and shoved it forward a little. I obeyed the tiny touch by lurching forward. His eyes widened and he nearly dropped the control from surprise. 

Rev glanced up from where he was tending to Beka's headwound. "Keep on going, Harper! You're doing okay! Just keep on going! Don't be afraid, Beka and I are both right here."

Harper drew in a deep breath and faced the windshield again. Clutching the control a little tighter, he pushed it forward. He only paled a little bit when I picked up speed, but he didn't drop the control. Swallowing hard and keeping his eyes glued forward, he shoved the control forward. I went hurling through space, desperately hoping that Harper's eyesight wouldn't fail him. It didn't. He yanked me out of harms way a few times when I had been flying straight towards an asteroid. The evasion wasn't smooth and Rev nearly went flying across the cockpit, but none of us said anything. After all, for his first time, Harper was doing a pretty decent job. 

Although our sudden increase in speed had surprised our pursuers, it hadn't shaken them. They had continued firing, but from the way Harper jerked me around in erratic, rough paths, most of their missiles flew past me, sizzling in a streak of light through the cold darkness of space. 

But when I noticed that my engines were nearly starting to melt from the pressure and heat building up within them, I knew I had to put a stop to this before I exploded. I increased the wail of my emergency siren, hoping Harper would notice. 

He did. He worriedly glanced down at Rev and Beka, who was groggily coming around. 

"The engines won't last much longer, Rev. What should I do?" he sounded close to panicking, but he kept a tight rein on his hysteria and forced his voice to remain strong. It only wavered slightly. Even though his eyes were wide and his face was as pale as a sheet, he tried to keep his wits about him. 

Beka had heard him. She licked her lips and sat up with Rev's help. "Slipstream, shorty. It's the only way." She mumbled weakly. Harper had to lean forward to hear her and when he caught her words, his eyes widened and he nearly dropped the control. 

"Slipstream? Me?" he squeaked out, obviously terrified. 

Beka gave him a shaky smile as she lay slumped in Rev's arms. Her hair was flying in wild strands all over her face, some of the blond strands stained dark red from the blood. Her hand was in a splint and there was a smudge of blood on her cheek, but she was smiling at him reassuredly. 

"It's okay, shorty. You can do it." She weakly motioned for Rev to key in the coordinates. Reaching up, Rev punched in a few random commands and immediately, a slipstream portal opened up before me and my 'stream anchors came up. I could feel the electrical pull of the stream on me as it reached out for me, like a sizzling, seductive song. 

Rev gave Harper a nod and briefly squeezed his hand. "The Divine is with you, Harper. Don't be afraid." Then he went back to taking care of Beka, changing the cloths on the back of her head to stop the bleeding. 

Beka gave him a weak smile, her face pale from the blood loss and dizziness. 

"It's okay, shorty. You've seen me do this a million times. Just shove the controls forward and let the stream grab us and then let it take you anywhere. I don't care where we go as long as we lose those gliders."

Harper tried to return her shaky smile, but he was too scared to manage much more than a faint flicker of a grin. Hands shaking and eyes wide, the blue within them darkening with fear, he gripped he control, bit his lip and suddenly shoved the control forward and I shot forward and went hurling into the streams embrace. 

Harper nearly let go of the controls, but he kept a tight grip on them. He just sat there, too scared to move and do anything as the flickering silver chains of electricity tore me around, yanking me around. 

As I hurled through the stream, I finally hit an exit by complete accident and I fell out of the stream, the silver chains gently tossing me out and leaving me gliding through the darkness of space. 

Harper sat there, still half stunned. Slowly, he blinked and loosened his grip on the control until he could pry his hand off it. Immediatley, I slowed down and let myself drift along on inertia alone, letting my poor abused engines cool. After I determined my engines were sore but not dead, I turned off the wail of the siren. Glancing at the navigational screen beside him, Harper desperately glanced around it for any signs of the gliders. When he didn't see any other ship within range, he let out a relieved sigh and collapsed against the chair. 

Rev was grinning at him and reached up and squeezed his arm. Beka gave him a proud smile. 

"You did it, shorty. You see? I knew you could do it." She whispered weakly before she fainted in Rev's arms. 

Rev gave him one more smile before he picked Beka up and hurriedly rushed down the corridor towards the medical room. 

Harper immediately tore himself out of the relief and the small sense of pride he had felt when he realized Beka was still hurt. They were safe, but Beka was hurt. 

Pushing himself up, he grabbed the med kit from the floor and quickly ran down the corridor towards the medical room. 


	45. Chapter 45

The Diaries 

Chapter 45

Database Records Archive: 119 (10086)

Specific Time: Two days later

That little incident pounded many painful points into my captain's mind. First of all, she swore to go grubbing through the nastiest back corners of the universe trying to find a legal haul before she agreed to take anything remotely illegal anywhere ever again. The prices we had to pay for those runs outweighed the money we made. Beka had nearly cried when we had to use up all the money we'd made from the run in order to fix myself up and pay the docking fee for keeping me in dry dock while a repair crew fixed and replaced what Harper couldn't salvage and coax back into working. 

The other thing my captain was forced to realize was that it was a safety hazard for any member of her crew to be what she called a 'pilot virgin'. 

After Rev had stitched her head back up and she could sit up and walk around without her head swimming  and enveloping her in a cloud of dizziness, she went and had a talk with Harper. 

At first, Harper had laughed off her worries. He'd pointed out that in the past three years, there had only been one incident where neither Rev nor her were able to fly. He said he was willing to take those chances over again. They were good enough. 

Well, they certainly weren't good enough for Beka. She said it wasn't only a safety hazard, but what if Rev was off on one of his retreats and she smacked her head somewhere and was knocked unconscious and it was up to Harper to fly them out of whatever mess they'd land in? What then? Nobody would be able to talk him through it and key in coordinates for him. He'd have to do it all by himself. 

Beka couldn't believe she'd completely forgotten about teaching Harper how to fly in the past few years. He'd always sit on the railing behind her and curiously watch what she was doing, but he was always more interested in learning why everything happened, rather than how. 

But before Beka could start berating herself for having completely forgotten about something so important, Rev smiled and said it wasn't so appalling that both of them had forgotten. 

After all, Harper knew everything there was to know about my engines and slipstream drive. He not only knew every theoretical and proven fact about slipstream theory but could even recite the year in which slipstream was discovered and the Vedran who had made the discovery. 

More importantly, he could fix my engines and my old, precious slipstream drive with an elastic band, a smile and a kiss. He had taken them apart, fixed them and put them back together so many times that he could hear it from the cockpit if a simple little coil was out of line. 

Because of this, I too find it slightly surprising that Harper doesn't know the first thing about actually flying me and using those engines he so lovingly tends to and keeps together. 

Beka decided it was high time to change that. 

At first, he'd put up a huge fuss over it. As always, when something came along which didn't require his intellect but his instinct, that old paranoia and self-doubt came creeping back into him. When laughing it off only made Beka cross her arms and raise her eyebrows, he quickly switched over to using his old attitude and spat that he didn't need to know 'how to fly some creaky old rustbucket'. Personally, I was insulted by that remark and seriously considered throwing the environmental controls off line, but then I realized Harper was just scared and was afraid he'd mess up and was trying to squirm his way out of it. 

But as usual, my captain was unmoved by his outburst and just continued staring at him, eyebrows raised and arms crossed as she patiently waited for him to calm down. When he finally lapsed into an angry, apprehensive silence, she looked him up and down. 

"Finished?" she asked, her voice void of all emotions. He scowled at her, but shifted around uncomfortably. Anybody with eyes—or sensors—could see that his anger was evaporating and his fear of messing up was starting to grab hold of him again. 

Beka lowered her crossed arms and a softness crept back into her eyes, which until now had been glaring with that hard iciness which all captains call upon from time to time. 

"Shorty, we both know you have to learn how to fly. I'm not saying it's easy, but I know you're a very quick learner and you've got the reflexes of an alley cat so it shouldn't be too bad. Besides, I'll be there the whole time and if you do end up flying us straight towards an asteroid, I'll just lean over and yank the controls the right way again." She leaned down a bit until she was meeting his eyes, which had been boring apprehensively into my deck. "Okay?"

He shrugged. That old, bad habit got him an old response from my captain. She just raised her eyebrows and didn't move. Shifting around a little, he finally nodded. 

"Alright, fine. But if I crash the Maru then you can't get mad."

Beka laughed, ruffled his hair and walked towards the cockpit. Taking a deep breath and muttering a "Well, what the hell" under his breath, Harper followed her. 

So, my little mudfoot engineer learned how to fly. 

It was one of those weeks where we didn't have a job or a contract to keep and we were flying through a deserted—but safe—trading route. Beka mostly keeps me on auto-pilot when we have to quietly and slowly drift through one of these strips while she argues and haggles former clients and fellow haulers over the viewscreen about giving her a job somewhere. 

Rev spends his time reading and cleaning up my database. Harper has stuffed it full of the huge assortment of—of—stuff he has accumulated in his mind since he got his port. The factual information in my database was impressive and sometimes extremely useful, but it was horribly disorganized. Harper always hooked himself up to a datachip reader and downloaded every gigabit of information from the chip into his mind and then hooked himself up to my matrix and dumped it into my database so Beka and Rev could also use it when emergencies came up. However, Harper never had the time and the particular desire to put anything in some sort of chronological or factual order and just left streams of data floating around everywhere. He had always hated cleaning up after himself—a fact which nearly drives Andromeda to tears when she pleads with him to clean up engineering or his quarters (which she considers a safety hazard zone)—and no amount of Beka's yelling and Rev's pleading would get him to spend hours in my database just to clean everything up. So Rev did it. 

Truth be told, he says that he doesn't truly mind the clean up duty. He says that the constant sorting through of information in my database was interesting and intriguing and he sometimes spends a great deal more time reading files rather than simply putting them away properly, but I can't complain. At least the job is being done. 

Database Records Archive: 120 (10088)

I can't help but point out that this wouldn't even be a problem if some idiot had given me an AI, since I could then maintain and clean my database to my hearts content. I mean, just thinking about all the missed opportunities I have had, I nearly collapse into tears of anti-protons but….Alright, alright. Andromeda is giving me one of those stern looks that plainly says I'm babbling and I need to get back on track. 

Alright, fine. Here we go. 

Database Records Archive: 119 (10086)

Specific Time: Direct continuation of Record 119. Interuption due to social chatter unbecoming 

of a cargo vessel (Andromeda's words, not mine)

Seeing how we were in the middle of nowhere and didn't have anywhere urgent to be at the moment, Beka decided it was perfect time for Harper to try his hand at the controls. 

She had pored over an astrometrical map of the region of space we were in and was satisfied that there weren't any asteroids, spacial anomalies, black holes and anything else strange in sight that could present a problem for a 'pilot virgin'. 

Harper had just put his cleaning rod into his port and had stuck the blue cleaning patch over it and was facing a 48 hour ban from my matrix and datachips anyway, so he was willing to give this whole 'piloting thing' a try. 

Beka told him to strap himself in, tighten the seatbelt straps and not to touch anything else while she went and grabbed a vitamin hypo and an IB booster from the medical room. 

Leaping down the step and grabbing him, she ignored his scowls and muttered curses while she pressed the vitamin hypo to his neck. Harper had started coughing a few hours ago and Beka was determined to stomp out whatever illness was nipping at his heels by filling him to the brim with vitamins and antibiotics. 

"Quit squirming shorty, or I swear I'll have Rev come over here and hold you down."

Rev glanced up from the viewscreen at the operations controls in the corner of the cockpit where he was sifting through my database and cleaning it up. He grinned at Harper and growled at him. 

Harper glared at him but stopped squirming while Beka pressed the other hypo against his neck and then glanced at his cleaning patch and made sure it was covering his port properly. 

"Alright, shorty. We'll start from the very beginning. Don't roll your eyes at me, just listen. I know that you know what most of this stuff in here does, but I want to make sure you really know. I don't want any ugly surprises greeting us."

Crouching down beside the chair, she pointed at the navigation screen beside the piloting chair. 

"Navigational control. Rev has an identical one up there at his station so if you're in the middle of a mess you don't have to waste time looking at it constantly. He'll yell over where the bad guys are and how many of them there are. If you're by yourself, then this screen will be your best friend. Just remember that it only shows the Maru and any other ships within 3 lightyears. It doesn't show asteroids, planets, black holes or anything else nasty that the universe decides to throw our way. So, in order to avoid being blown to pieces, you have to keep one eye on the screen and stay out of the bad guys' way, and in order to avoid slamming into something unpleasant, you have to keep another eye at the windshield at all times. And I mean at all times, shorty. None of this 'tying your shoes and flying at the same time' crap. It only ends in disaster."

She twisted the navigational screen around and pointed at it.

"Okay, what do you see on here?"

Harper leaned over and tore his eyes off the windshield long enough to glance down at the navigational screen. He frowned and glanced at Beka as if she thought he was the dumbest being alive. 

He pointed at the huge, orange blip in the middle which was surrounded by a blinking circle.

"Well, that's the Maru. Obviously."

Beka rolled her eyes and pointed at another smaller green blip in the corner of the screen, slowly blinking and moving past my 'blip'.

"And what's that?"

Harper glanced at it. "It's a smaller ship than the Maru. Probably a glider or a smaller hauler. Nothing dangerous. If it isn't red that means it ain't got weapons."

Beka smiled. "Good, shorty. That's excellent. Alright, moving on."

My captain patiently explained how to use the viewscreen hanging above them and how to adjust the volume, how to cut someone off and how to fake a bad connection complete with static and a shaky picture. 

Then she showed him how to type in slipstream coordinates and showed him another screen beside him which showed all the neighboring systems and their designated coordinates so he'd know where he had to go. 

Then came the actual flying. 

At first, Beka knelt beside him and wrapped her hand around his and they both held the control together as Beka gently sped me up and slowed me down and then moved me around in lazy circles and weaved me slowly through the darkness of space and millions of glimmering stars. 

When Beka took her hand off the control, Harper bit his lip nervously, but when Beka gave him an encouraging smile, he gently and so carefully pushed my control forward that I hardly even moved. Surprised at this slow response, he shoved the control forward a little harder and I went shooting forward. Harper slammed back against the seat, Rev had to grab onto the railing beside him and Beka fell over and went sprawling over the floor. 

Yanking his hand off the control and wide eyes staring around him, obviously terrified, he gaped down at Beka. 

"Why did she do that?" he gasped out. "I never meant to make her go so damn fast."

Beka picked herself up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Waving off Harper's apologies and confusion, she sat up and told him to try it again. 

When Harper looked like he was about to jump out of the chair and run off to hide in the furthest corner he could find, Beka reached up and wrapped his hand around the control again and covered his hand with her own. 

Slowly, she moved their hands forward and I gently sped up and went chugging through space at a speed which is normally designated for docking stations. 

Beka quietly explained that the control was quite old and needed a delicate but firm touch. If you were too delicate with it, I wouldn't move, but if you were too firm, I'd go hurling through space and slam into whatever was directly in our paths. 

Sighing but losing some of his nervousness, Harper started paying attention again. 

Database Records Archive: 121 (10086)

Specific Time: Two days later

After two days of flying around in circles, zig-zags and straight paths at various speeds, Harper had finally gotten a hang of flying me around by himself. 

He'd learned how to gently wiggle the control forward and backward to make me change speeds as smoothly as a cat. Beka even taught him how to do quick and successful 180 and 360 spins and not have them end up with me spinning endlessly through space. 

Much to Harper's enjoyment and Rev's annoyance, Beka showed my young pilot how to make me do flips and spin around my axis in various directions. 

We even found a nice little asteroid field with huge chunks of rock drifting around which were spaced far enough apart not to be a hazard but would still provide Harper with some manuvering practice. After he could weave through them all by himself and could even do circles and spins around the asteroids, Beka gave him a grin and said it was time for him to start learning how to stream.

Slipstreaming is a lot easier said than done. I find myself being eternally grateful that I'm not an organic being. By Andromeda's standards I can hardly be called sentient either, but  have a difference of opinion on that one. Anyway, not being an organic being leaves me free to never have to worry about streaming and about getting us where we want to go. I leave that in my capable pilots hands. 

The actual concept of slipstreaming is easy enough. Billions of silver strands connected hundreds of different star systems sprinkled throughout known space. But unfortunately, one couldn't just choose a path and fly it and end up where they wanted to be. It wasn't that simple. It's impossible for every single portal to be connected to every single system. It simply isn't possible. Which was why we had to sometimes do several jumps in order to travel from one system to another one. Depending how far you wanted to go dictated how many times you had to stream and jump from system to system, portal to portal, which explains why it can be so strenous and tiring for pilots. 

The reason streaming is so damn difficult and can't be done by ships on auto-pilot is because we lack organic intuition and 'gut feelings'. When a portal is opened, hundreds of paths are made available for a ship to fly through. There were sometimes one or two 'main routes' which had been flown many times by many different ships and the silver cords guiding the ships had been stretched and expanded and made flying in these main routes easy. However, when hurling through slipstream, it was up to the pilot to 'feel' when we had to veer off the main route and shove our way through a smaller, less travelled route and search for a portal to throw us out. 

Due to this uncertainty, it is quite easy to stream down main routes and reach your destination, but when a pilot had to make snap decisions on what 'felt right' in order to reach a less popular system, sometimes that pilot and his or her hapless ship can end up hundreds of lightyears away from where they wanted to be. And this seemingly huge mistake can stem from missing a tiny exit and choosing the wrong one or flying down the left path when they should have gone down the right one. 

We ships try to help our pilots as much as we can. When our pilots key in coordinates, they type in the coordinates of the system they want to reach and the stream will open up to reveal the most direct route possible to that system. When one is going to a system which lies right at the mouth of such main routes, the flight is easy and enjoyable. But when one is trying to reach a desolate system which isn't part of a main trading route and far away from inhabited planets, the stream can only pull up routes which contain the right route, no matter how buried and hidden it is. This is as much help as the stream and us ships can provide our pilots. It's our pilots job to not only fly through the stream and avoid bumping us around too much, but to make snap decisions and yank us around in whatever direction 'feels right' until they can find the tiny little route they want to take and squeeze through it until they reach an exit. 

Let me emphasize again how glad I am that I'm not an organic and don't have to worry about actually navigating the stream. The entire concept seems frighteningly impossible. I mean, how in the name of the Vedran Empress will someone's 'gut feelings' get them to the system they want to go? I will never understand it. Organic beings' minds are a true puzzle. I remember when I was talking to a small, young glider in a docking station once and he was saying how amazing it was that organic beings could dictate the behavior of the stream with their minds alone. 

I can't say I'm that gullible, but I still have to say I don't understand how they do it. 

Oh, well. Maybe Rev's Divine would know. I have to remember to ask Rev to talk to him about it the next time I spit out a damage report. 

Apparently this entire concept sounded as strange and unbelievable to Harper as it does to me. He refused to believe Beka when she explained everything to him. He demanded to know how the hell he was supposed to know whether to turn right or left when he hit a fork. 

Beka smiled gently. "You'll just know, shorty. I can't explain it any better. You just know when you're there."

Harper stared at her, still not being able to wrap his mind around it. "But what if I choose the wrong one? I mean, I can't just turn around, can I?"

"No. Then you simply find an exit, take a look where you are, pick a new set of coordinates and try again. Believe me, when I started streaming, it took me all day just to fly to Urullia—"

Harper's eyebrows flew up. "But Urullia's the converging system of 17 trading routes. It's right along one of the main routes—"

Beka laughed. "I know. I sucked. But anyway, obviously I lived and learned, Harper. I mean, I can fly circles around anybody and can stream better than any damn cargo hauler in the known worlds."

Harper gave her a grin. "You bet your ass you can."

Beka ruffled his hair and laughed. "Alright smart-mouth. Let's get this done with. Okay, pick a system along a main route, punch in the coordinates and open a portal."

Harper stared at her. "I ain't doing it by myself the first time."

Beka smiled and reached up and covered his hand with her own. "Alright. I'll yank you through this time, okay? Just watch and feel how the ship responds to your touch in the stream. You can yank her around a lot easier in the stream than you can in space. You have to be really delicate with this lady in the stream."

If it were possible for cargo-haulers to blush, I'd be as red as a planets red spot right about now. I'm a 'lady'. Did you hear that, Andromeda? Huh? Did you? I'm a 'lady'. And I don't even have an AI.

So Harper keyed in the coordinates to Ferullia—a heavily populated system in which Sinti lay—and took a deep breath as he pressed a button and my stream anchors came up with a screechy whine and a portal opened up before us. 

I could feel the streams electric tug on me long before Harper and Beka slowly started flying me toward it. 

As my two pilots started flying me towards the stream, I felt the familiar luring song of the stream as it pulled me towards it. It almost feels like a seductive dancing partner holding out his arms towards you, beckonging you to fall forwards and lose yourself in that embrace and that dance. 

Andromeda is rolling her eyes and says I'm a hopeless romantic, but I can detect a little blush creeping through her environmental system. She knows what I'm talking about. She just won't admit it. 

During the next three days, we streamed all over the place. The first day, Beka navigated the stream with Harper, letting him get a feel for how I respond in the stream and calming him down. When Harper was ready to try it on his own, Beka crouched down beside him and told him to pick any system and try to reach it. If he ended up landing us in a system hundreds of lightyears away from where we were heading, it didn't matter. He should just try it again. 

So my engineer slowly learned how to slipstream on his own. He found it nerve-wracking for a while—having to make snap decisions merely based on his gut feelings, but he soon got used to it and to his surpise discovered that his gut was right most of the time. 

Beka laughed and said she wasn't surprised. The reason some people made better stream pilots than others was because their intuition—their sixth sense—their gut feeling—whatever you want to call it, was better. Harper's sixth sense had been honed and carefully fine-tuned over the years of living on earth and here he could put it to good use. Beka's gut feeling had developed with practice, while Harper had been born with it and merely had to develop it. 

Slipstreaming allowed Harper to tap back into those instincts which he rarely used around us and had kept in careful reserve for emergencies. 

I wasn't at all surprised when Harper learned to love streaming. 


	46. Chapter 46

The Diaries Chapter 46 

Author's Ramble: You see? You see? Huh? Huh? Aren't you all proud? Look how quickly I wrote this up and threw it up here! Oh, I'm so proud of myself. Okay, anyway, hope you guys like this chapter. I realize the past two chapters weren't up to my standards, but exams tired me out. I hope this chapter's better. Have fun reading and tell me what you think. 

Database Records Archive: 122 (10086)

Specific Time:  A month later

Althought my crew thought they were now ready to deal with any emergency the universe might throw their way, the universe ended up having the last laugh, like it always does. 

For weeks now we had been drifting around aimlessly, chasing clients and contracts from one trading drift to another and digging our way through backwater worlds and docking stations in the hopes of finding something—anything—legal to run or salvage.

But the universe wasn't feeling kind. We were docked at a filthy, run down docking station which was part of a huge, dirty trading drift only known as 'Ditch 13'. I'm quite certain that isn't the drift's real name and from talking to other gliders and haulers around me, I came to understand that the drift actually used to be a stop-over for tourists making the long journey to Infinity Atoll for a luxurious vacation. The drift was never very busy and just had a few stores and repair stations where people could rest up, buy some last minute items, laugh and drink and then leave the next morning to make their way to Infinity. 

That had all changed when Nietzscheans had tried to lay their claim on it. Apparently, two or three prides all wanted to get their hands on the luxurious and expensive drift, purely for economic reasons. As any idiot could tell you, when two or three Nietzschean prides start fighting it out for a little piece of property, the results are mostly disastrous and ugly. 

In this case, the prides fought for two years before they decided that it wasn't worth it and they all withdrew their troops and ships, leaving the drift behind in ruins. 

It lay abandoned and blown to pieces, quietly drifting through space among other chunks of long forgotten space debris, before a group of fleeing convicts accidently stumbled upon it. Word quickly spread that there was an abandoned drift in the middle of nowhere where there wasn't any danger of FTA officials poking around or cops paying surprise visits to the many dealers and merchants who found their way here. 

Now, the once beautiful drift had been turned into a dirty, broken down waste basket of drug dealers, thieves, murderers and drug addicts who spent most of their time trading amongst themselves and stealing from each other. Respectable traders and haulers usually did their best to stay out of the drifts way and turned up their noses at the haulers who had made their start at the drift. 

Now Andromeda can maybe begin to understand what a desperate situation we were the day Beka decided to stop at the Ditch in a last desperate effort to find some work. 

My crew was hungry, tired and cold and were ready to sell their own clothes if it meant they would find some money somewhere. 

Beka and Harper were eating the remaining dry ration packs which Harper had found up in the cargo hold— which had been at the bottom of a crate for who knows how long— and Rev hadn't eaten in five days. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem for a magog, but Beka and Harper were worried sick, since finding dry, disgusting rations was relatively easier than finding live meat for Rev to eat. 

To make matters worse, something in my environmental systems blew out and Harper had tried for weeks to find something else which he could coax into fooling my systems with thinking it's the same thing, but my systems aren't dumb thank-you-very-much.

But with my environmental systems being in pieces, I couldn't keep the temperature inside of me high enough and my crew—with the exception of Rev—have now started wearing thick sweaters when walking around my corridors. Harper has squeezed every remaining bit of heat into the crew quarters, but Beka still had to haul the extra blankets down from the cargo-hold so they didn't freeze to death. Since Harper couldn't get any heat into Beka's room, she dragged her blankets and pillows into the crew quarters and slept in Bobby's old bunk. They've even started using heating lamps for extra warmth. 

The situation was starting to look desperate. Right before we'd landed, Beka, Rev and Harper had been involved in a heated debate over whether or not they should accept any work they could find on the Ditch or whether they'd stick to finding something legal. 

Rev said that the risks they were running by taking an illegal haul were too great and we couldn't afford to be caught. Harper scoffed at that and had said that the chances could go to hell and if they didn't take any damn job that came their way, they'd all be too dead to worry about consequences. His survival instinct had harshly kicked in and he was constantly paranoid and edgy. 

Not that the rest of my crew were any better. Beka constantly grumbled and swore and even Rev had started sighing way too much and snapping at Harper. 

Beka was torn. She knew they really couldn't run the risk of taking an illegal haul, but she knew that there wasn't a high probablity of finding a legal run on this mess of a drift. 

But she decided to try anyway. She decided to leave Rev behind to guard me, since the sight of a magog usually managed to scare off any curious busy-bodies who wanted to poke around me while my captain was away. 

She gave Harper his IB shots, made sure he had a gun as well as his knife and told him not to drink anything and not to touch anything unless he absolutely had to. 

Harper rolled his eyes, flipped up the collar of his jacket to cover his port and muttered that he wasn't a damn little kid. Without another word, he hopped out of my airlock and disappeared in the raucous, filthy crowd that swarmed all over the drift. 

Beka had given Harper a glare at his remark, but swallowed it when she remembered Harper was just hungry and scared. She took a deep breath. Apparently, Harper wasn't the only one who was scared over what would happen to them. Turning around, she tucked her gun securily in its holster and told Rev to lock the airlock from the inside and enable the security system. Rev nodded and told her to be careful. 

Sighing and swearing under her breath, Beka jumped onto the rotting berth floor and gave Rev a thin smile before she disappeared into the crowd too. 

Rev stood there in my open airlock for a while, staring into the crowd which milled around and pushed past each other with dirty looks, none of them caring about anything and anyone except for themselves. 

Sighing and muttering a prayer to the Divine, he shut my airlock and enabled my security system. 

Five hours later, my engineer and captain dragged themselves back towards me. They were tired and pale and there was a scratch on Harper's cheek. 

Typing in the security codes, Beka squinted through the dim lights of the station in order to see the pad she was punching numbers into. 

Harper was standing with his back to hers, keeping a wary eye on the curious onlookers who dragged themselves past them, some of them hardly seeing them and others giving them leering, hungry looks. Harper scowled and glared at them, making sure none of them moved any closer to either of them unless they had to. 

When Beka had pulled open my airlock, she pulled out her gun and kept it trained on the crowd milling past them while she muttered for Harper to jump up while she watched his back. Harper hopped up and then whirled around and kept a wary, apprehensive eye on everybody else while Beka climbed up. 

They both blinked at the sudden brightness of my corridors. Slamming the airlock shut, Harper enabled the security system on my airlock again and made sure everything was locked up tightly. 

Then they both dragged themselves into the kitchen and wearily collapsed into chairs. 

Rev glanced up from where he was sitting, reading a book. Harper was slumped in his chair, darkly glaring at the table top and Beka had let her head fall onto her arms on the table. Neither of them moved or offered Rev a word in greeting. 

He looked back and forth between them for a while, before he leaned forward. 

"From the general mood being projected in this room at the moment, I take it that we're still unemployed?" He asked gently. 

Harper smiled bitterly, angrily. "Yeah, no shit." He spat. 

Beka lifted her head and glared at Harper. "Seamus, don't swear at Rev."

Harper directed his scathing angry glare at her. "Don't tell me what to fucking do."

An angry spark erupted in Beka's eye and she opened her mouth to yell back and release the pent up frustrations she'd been feeling over the past few weeks, but then decided that it wasn't worth it. 

They were all cold, hungry, tired and scared and yelling at each other wasn't going to help. After all, they had to stick together. They were all they had. 

Beka looked away from Harper and wearily rubbed her neck while she sat up and collapsed against the back of the chair. 

A sudden, hard smile flickered across her face. "If I ever told anybody that we didn't find any work on the Ditch, they'd think I was crazy. I mean, on a drift where trading and hauling is a way of life, you'd think we could scratch something up, but—nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a measly drug run from here to the next system." Beka threw up her hands. "Nothing." She let them fall to the table and she stared at the table and lapsed into silence. 

They sat there in silence, all of them thinking the same thoughts. 

What the hell were they going to do now? They had nowhere to go. They didn't have any work. They didn't have any money. They didn't have any food. All they had were each other and me. 

Database Records Archive: 123 (10086)

Specific Time: Five days later

I really didn't think that things could get much worse. I really didn't. But then, the universe gave us one last chuckle. One last chuckle which pitched us straight into hell. From the frying pan right into the fire as Harper put it years later when telling Dylan about what had happened. 

We had been docked at the Ditch for five days. It wasn't that we didn't have the fuel, but my crew didn't have the strength. 

Beka would sit on her bed for hours, staring at the wall, her eyes empty and void of all hope. Sometimes, she'd force herself to get up and she'd go out and flirt, scream and plead with people to give her a run to do, but she always came back empty handed. 

Harper was hardly there. At first, he'd tried fixing my environmental controls and busy himself with scrubbing old pipes and polishing various bits of machinery, but he soon got frustrated with that. Throwing a scanner against the wall, he swore at it and stormed out of engineering and leapt out of my airlock and was gone. 

Rev had run after him to stop him, but Harper had snarled at him not to touch him and Rev had quickly backed off, recognizing the old Harper when he saw him. 

Harper came back two days later, filthy, drunk and even edgier and snarkier than he had been when he'd left. Beka had started yelling at him as soon as she saw him. She asked if he'd taken his IB shots before he left and if he'd taken his tablets with him. When Harper shrugged and spat that he didn't give a damn about 'no fucking tablets', she turned on him, glared at him and completely lost it. She screamed that he might as well shoot himself now and do them all a favor because once he got sick from whatever dirty virus he'd picked up from drinking watered down vodka from dirty, slim rimmed glasses and screwing his way through back alleys, then her and Rev didn't have the money or the time to waste on nursing him back to health. 

Harper's eyes had flashed and he'd snarled that he never asked for anybody to play nursemaid for him, which prompted Beka to yell back that she was damn glad he felt that way since she never thought he was worth it anyway. 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, a change seemed to overcome Harper. The anger faded from his eyes and angry retorts died on his lips. His face paled and his eyes suddenly went blank like they used to long ago when he didn't want anybody knowing what he was thinking. 

Staring at her for a moment, he suddenly spun around and ran down the corridor towards the airlock. He stumbled slightly since a fair amount of alcohol still fogged up his mind, but he knew the way. 

Beka bit her lip as soon as she realized what she had said. All the anger faded from her and regret flooded her face. 

"No! I didn't mean it, Harper! Seamus! Don't go! I didn't mean it, dammit!" she screamed after him as she frantically ran down the corridor after him. 

But Harper didn't listen. Punching open the airlock, he leaped out and fought his way through the crowd outside. Not looking back, he melted into the crowd and disappeared. 

Beka reached the airlock and clutched the doorway frame with shaking, pale hands as she frantically scanned the crowds of people and abandoned, broken ships lying in nearby berths. 

Her hair hung in tangled strands around her pale, shallow face and her eyes were filled with fear and regret as she quietly swore. 

Not seeing him, she looked like she was about to collapse, but forced herself to stay upright.

"Harper!" she screamed across the crowd. "Seamus! Please! I didn't mean it! Come back! Dammit! Please!"

A few people interupted their muttered conversations long enough to grace her with a curious glance, but most people didn't care and continued living their own wasted lives. Crazy people standing in the doorways of their ships, screaming across the station wasn't out of place. Not here. 

Beka continued staring through the crowd, trying desperately to find a blond, spiky head, but didn't see him. 

A few drunks sitting close by hollered back at her. "I'll come back, baby, just give me a minute to get off my ass here"—"Why'd you want this Harper guy, sweetheart? Ain't I a good enough fuck for ya?" This was accompanied by raucous, drunken laughter which grated on my external sensors grids. 

Beka ignored them. Biting her lip, she quickly made up her mind, just like I knew she would. When a member of her crew and her family is lost and alone, my captain doesn't rest or give up until she has them safely back on her ship. 

Yelling over her shoulder to Rev that she was going out to look for Harper, she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, pulled out her gun and hopped out of my airlock. 

Slamming it shut and securing it behind her, Beka started shoving her way through the crowd, glaring at leering looks, vulgar comments and slapping away wandering hands while her eyes constantly pierced through the dim lights of the station, looking for Harper. 

Three hours later, they were back. Both of them were hanging off each other, half dragging the other and half dragging themselves. 

Their clothes were torn and filthy and there was a cut on Beka's cheek. I immediately noticed her gun was missing. Harper looked little better and from the way he was stumbling and his eyes were hazed over, I could tell he was still far from being sober. 

Rev was standing in the open airlock as soon as he had detected them coming on my external sensors display. Reaching down, he pulled Harper up and then reached down and pulled Beka up too. Beka nearly stumbled but pulled herself up and locked the airlock and secured it. 

Meanwhile, Rev was gently pulling a stumbling Harper down the corridor and into the crew quarters. 

Lowering him onto the bed, Rev pulled off his boots and his jacket. Harper lay there, eyes half closed and he looked like he was half way passed out. 

But those old instincts of his never passed out or fell asleep, no matter where he was.

As soon as Rev reached over to undo his pants, Harper's eyes flew open, and he viciously slapped Rev's hands away. Before Rev could do anything else, Harper lunged at him and clawed at his eyes with one hand while his other hand grabbed him by the throat and nearly threw him over. 

Rev immediately coughed and tried to pry Harper's hand from his throat. Harper was swearing and hissing at him, obviously terrified and completely unaware of where he was. 

"Don't you dare touch me, you sick beast!" he snarled, tightening his grip. 

"Harper!" Rev gasped out. "Please! Release me! I mean you no harm. You are on the Maru. I am Rev. Please, Harper. Take a minute to think." That's how far he got before he started coughing. 

Harper glared at him, anger and sick fear filling his eyes and mind, before he blinked and suddenly let Rev's words sink in. 

Immediately, he released Rev and stared at him with wide eyes, still gasping. 

"Rev? Oh, I'm so sorry. God, I'm sorry. I'm just a little zuzzered, you know? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Rev gave one last cough and winced over the pain in his throat when he swallowed. He held up a hand. 

"It is alright, Master Harper. No harm done. You are intoxicated and weak from hunger and fatigue and you lost sense of your surroundings for a while. I am alright."

Still shaken, Harper nodded weakly before his remaining bits of strength deserted him and he collapsed onto his bed. 

Rev gently finished pulling off his pants and then pulled the blanket out from under him and softly covered him with it. 

Gently smoothing a strand of dirty blond hair from the pale forehead, Rev bade him good night and softly told me to dim the lights. 

Pushing himself up, he wearily rubbed his throat and walked to the door. At the door, he turned back and sighed softly as he looked at the pale, young person sleeping curled up on the bed. 

Beka had done her scan on Harper earlier that day. 

All the hard gained weight he had put on over the past year was falling off his thin frame at an alarming rate. The way it was going, he would soon be the pale bag of skin and bones he had been years ago when Beka had first picked him up. 

Rev wandered down the corridor and went into the kitchen. Beka was sitting at the table, listlessly reading over a flexi she had picked up yesterday. 

Her hair hung in dirty, limp strands around her shallow face and her eyes looked dull and lifeless. 

She glanced up when she saw Rev. 

"Is he asleep?"

Rev nodded and watched her trying hard to concentrate on reading, but miserably failing. Finally, she swore softly and let the flexi fall onto the table. Crossing her arms on the table, she let her tired head fall onto them and closed her eyes. 

Rev went over to her and gently touched her back.

"You should go to bed, Rebecca.You've done all you can do for today. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow we shall pick up our burdens again and carry on, but we're done for today."

Beka sighed and slowly lifted her head up. Leaning back against the chair, she hugged herself, looking forlorn and alone, but that gleam of determination still glimmered in her eyes, like glowing embers of a slowly dying fire.

"Not yet, Rev. I just want to finish reading this flexi I got off some idiot the other day. It's a list of all the dealers on the drift who frequently want runners." She yawned and both Rev and I could see how exhausted she was. "I need to finish it and see if there's anybody on here who we haven't asked and pleaded with yet." She gave him a bitter, hard smile. "But I really doubt we haven't asked everybody at least five times."

Rev reached over and gently picked up the flexi. "I will make you a proposition, Rebecca. You go to bed and I will finish reading the list—" he held up his hand to silence her protests. "And if I find anybody interesting, I will tell you as soon as you open your eyes tomorrow morning."

Beka stared up at him for a while, before she chuckled weakly and allowed him to help her to her feet. 

Slowly, they shuffled down the corridor to the crew quarters. Rev helped her onto Bobby's old bunk and she pulled off her boots, letting them softly drop to the floor so she wouldn't wake Harper. 

She pulled off her shirt and pants and yawned as Rev handed her her boxers and shirt. She wearily pulled them on, ignoring the fact that she'd pulled her shirt on backwards. 

Collapsing on her bed, she let Rev tuck her in and she wearily closed her eyes. Rev had taken the flexi with him from the kitchen and he quietly sat down beside her on the bed and started reading. 

He glanced at her from time to time, making sure she was really sleeping. 

She wasn't. 

After a few minutes, she slowly opened her eyes and stared across the floor at Harper. He'd curled himself up into a little ball and had snuggled himself into his blankets and asides from his pale face and dirty hair, he looked like a little angel. 

An angel with broken wings and a dirty, finger smudged halo. 

She stared at him for a while, just watching him breathing in and out. She sighed and turned onto her back and stared up at the bunk above her. When she spoke, she spoke in a strangled, desperate whisper. The tension in her voice was so tight that I knew she wanted to scream instead of whisper but she didn't want to wake Harper. 

"It took me two damn hours to find him, you know. I thought it would take forever, I mean, you know earthers. They can blend into walls and fade into darkness and crowds like they were a part of them. I mean, if an earther doesn't want to be found, then you don't find them." She sighed quietly as fear clouded her eyes. "I really thought I had lost him for a while. I'd run all over the place and had asked a million people if they'd seen him, but nobody had. So I stood there in the middle of the damn station, dirty people muttering to themselves and pushing past me and I thought, damn it, if I lose my shorty somewhere, it'll be somewhere better than this. If he was going to leave us then he deserved a lot better than this. So I kept on looking. You know where I found him?" she glanced at Rev and gave him a small smile before she looked back up at the bunk above her. "He was sitting in a back alley, playing cards with a hooker and drinking. As soon as he saw me, he glared and started to run, but then I begged him to just stay and listen. So then I launched into a million apologies for that idiotic, stupid thing I'd said and I finally convinced him I meant it. At first, he didn't look like he believed me, but then you know what happened? That hooker, she looked at Harper and said to him 'Well, if you don't go with her, I will. She's obviously got a good heart and you'd be an idiot to run away from it, whatever the hell the reason might be.' Then he just stared at me before walking over and muttering that we better get back to the Maru before they dimmed the station lights. Anyway, we were on our way back when we took a wrong turn and ended up in a dead end. There were loads of people around and before I realized it, Harper wasn't beside me anymore. So I spun around, looking for him and then two filthy drunkards slam me against the wall and a third comes up and steals my gun. So I started trying to fight them off, but they were so damn close that I couldn't move, and my god, that stench of alcohol nearly made me pass out! I don't see how alcoholics can stand the smell of themselves. So anyway, I started thinking that it's all over and they were going to slit my throat and I'd die here of all places, in the Ditch, and I thought it would be hilarious. After all the things I'd done to try and clean up the Valentine reputation of being drug runners, addicts and cons, I'd die on a filthy, drug infested drift which no respectable hauler even mentions. So anyway, I decide that isn't going to happen. Suddenly, the guy in front of me crumbles, and Harper's standing there with a metal pole in his hand. He was swearing and yelling at the guy, and slammed the pole into his head again just for good measure. Said nobody touches his boss if he's within killing distance. I don't know whether he killed the guy or not, but neither of us cared. So then I slam a left hook into the guy on my right and I knee the other guy in the balls and Harper and I run off." She stared up at the bunk again and a single tear trembled in her eyes. 

She bit her lip as she glanced at Rev and then looked back up at the bunk as if it was easier for her to look at that than Rev. 

She swallowed a quiet sob and forced her voice to remain level. 

"We can't die here, Rev. We all deserve better. I promised myself that I wouldn't die in a place like this, starving, hungry and desperate. I swore that I'd die and leave the Valentine name with a little respect and pride. And you and Harper deserve much better than this too. We can't die here, Rev. We just can't. We have to think of something."

Rev didn't say anything, just reached over and gently squeezed her hand while Beka struggled to force her tears back. 

The effort that took was too great for her and her weakened body betrayed her determined, stubborn mind and she succumbed to sleep, that tear slowly sliding down her pale face. 

Reaching over, Rev gently wiped the tear away and then pulled the blankets around her and went back to reading the flexi. 


	47. Chapter 47

The Diaries Chapter 47 

Author's Ramble: Here are the next two chapters. After the wee bit of writers block I encountered earlier, I finally know exactly where I'm going with this part. My sister swears that the next chapter ends as a cliffhanger. What did I do when I heard that? I just laughed evilly. But don't worry. It's not a bad one. Anyway, hope you have fun reading. As always, I'd love to hear what you hated and loved about it. 

Now I get to go write about a certain purple friend of ours and how she gets entangled into this huge mess of a story. (hint, hint, nudge, nudge)

Remember people, patience is a virtue. :D :D :D

Database Records Archive: 124 (10086)

Specific Time:  The next day

The very next morning at exactly 0618 hours, I received a transmission. At first, I thought I'd picked up a junk transmission—bits and pieces of a transmission sent at the same frequency which I receive transmissions on—but as soon as I saw that it was directly addressed to a Captain Rebecca Valentine, I realized we might be in trouble. 

Why did I think this? Simply because my captain doesn't have any friends close to the Ditch and doesn't have anybody close to her who calls her Captain Rebecca Valentine. Only official people call her that. And official people transmissions aren't a good thing. 

I nearly turned off my transmission analyzer, since I really didn't want to know who it was from, but I realized that wasn't a smart idea. If it was something urgent then I had to alert my captain to it right away. It's never a good idea to make official people wait. 

Reluctantly, I took a look at the sender and right away, what was left of my environmental systems fizzled and died. 

It was from a FTA official. Specifically, a FTA official who worked in the Department of Fines and Taxation of Privately Owned Transportation Operations. 

Not good news. Not good news at all. I did a quick skim over my captain's financial fine and I cringed when I saw that  we hadn't been able to pay our FTA taxes for the past five months. Not good news.

I let a quiet beep travel down my corridors. I didn't want to wake my captain and have her lose her temper with the official. It would only irritate the snotty idiot and make him slap us with a worse punishment than he currently had in mind. 

No. This delicate situation needed the gentle touch of a Wayist. I found myself eternally grateful for a Magog's heightened sense of hearing. 

Rev immediately woke up and threw the covers off himself. Yawning quietly, he pushed himself up and silently shuffled out of the crew quarters, careful not to wake Beka or Harper, who were both sleeping peacefully. 

He quickly made his way down the corridor, rubbing his eyes and pulling his robe and medallion on straight. We might be dirt poor, but we could still look presentable. 

Going to the cockpit, he sat down at the operations console and turned on the small viewscreen and quietly asked me to put the transmission through there. 

Reluctantly, I did. 

Immediately, the stern face of an FTA official filled the screen. Grey, piercing eyes stared at Rev with disdain as those eyes quickly skimmed him up and down and frankly assessed him and dismissed him as being beneath his standards. 

"I assume you're not Captain Rebecca Valentine?" he sniffed, jutting his pointy chin out slightly. 

Rev shook his head politely. "No, I'm sorry. Captain Valentine is still sleeping, I'm afraid but I'm her companion and part of her crew so I may speak on her behalf. I am Reverend Behemial Far Traveller."

The man stared at him for a moment, obviously never having seen a Magog Reverend before, but he quickly surpressed his surprise. 

"Are you currently on the cargo hauler designated as the—" he paused momentarily as he typed around on a flexi he was holding. "The Eureka Maru?"

Rev nodded. "Yes."

The man squinted at him briefly before he glanced at his flexi again. "Are you aware of the FTA regulations regarding the taxation of privately operating salvagers and cargo transporters on FTA routes?"

Rev nodded. He knew what was coming. I did too. All we could do was nod along and politely wait while the noose was tightened around our necks.

"Even if you are, I will remind you once again, since you and your captain and crew have been doing quite a poor job of abiding by those regulations." Clearing his throat and glancing down at the flexi, he looked like he was about to read out the meaning of life. "Regulation 43, subsection Omega Two: All owners and operators of privately owned vessels operating on FTA routes are required to pay monthly taxes to the FTA." The man dropped the flexi and stared at Rev. "I have been examining your financial record in our database and have discovered something unpleasant."

Rev shifted around but did his best to keep a feigned look of curiousity on his face. The longer you can smile your way through a situation like an angel, the longer you keep the devil off your back. It's something my old captain used to say. 

The man typed around on his flexi again before he looked up at Rev. 

"Mr.—" 

Rev waved his hand at him, indicating that formalities weren't necessary. When your executioner is busy tightening the noose around your neck and telling you to stand squarely on the trap door, it isn't necessary for him to address you as Mister anything anymore. 

"I'll cut to the heart of the matter—" I cringed at his choice of words. So did Rev. "Your captain hasn't paid her taxes for the past five months and in the past three years, she was late with her taxes exactly eleven times. Eight out of those eleven times, she wasn't able to pay the late fine we charged her. Now, so we understand each other,…._Reverend_…..the amount of money she currently owes us and the unreliability she has shown us warrant a jail term for her and her crew." At Rev's horrified expression, the man held up a hand, pending all arguments. "_However_,  because of the fact that Captain Valentine's father had some…uhm…well connected friends, I have been able to acquire an alternative. Either Captain Valetine finds a way to pay all the late fines, taxes and penalty fines in the next 24 hours, or we will seize her vessel and hold it until she has paid all her fines as well as the reclaiming fine for her vessel." With that, the man gave Rev a tight smile. "Well, feel free to discuss this choice with our captain. I will be contacting you in exactly 24 hours. If you have the money, then be ready to transmit it. If you don't, then I will be sending a fleet to your current position and your vessel will be impounded Good day."

Giving Rev one more tight smile, the man leaned over and cut the connection. 

Rev remained frozen in his chair, staring at the blank screen. 

As I said before; from the frying pan, into the fire. 

Database Records Archive: 125 (10086)

Specific Time: Two hours later

"They're going to _what_?!" Beka cried, whirling around and nearly sending her cup of water flying across the kitchen. 

Rev looked torn between wanting to sooth her temper somehow or running out of the kitchen to escape that temper. He opted on staying. He held up a soothing hand. 

"Beka, please, try to remain calm. The gentleman did say that we had 24 hours to—"

"24 hours, Rev? 24 damn hours? Does it look like I have 7000 thrones sitting on the table here, huh?" she slammed her cup onto the table, sending the water sloshing over the edges, but not caring. She leaned onto the table on her hands and bent down until she was at Rev's eye level, who was still sitting, petrified, at the table. 

"And _don't_ call that asshole a gentleman. He's about to ruin what's left of our lives and take my home away from me, so _don't_ sit there and call him a gentleman."

Harper shifted around where he was standing in the kitchen doorway, warily leaning on the doorframe. He looked like he was seriously considering just running out and leaving Rev to deal with Beka and her temper. 

He jumped and winced and clutched his temples when Beka slammed a fist onto the table. He had come to the kitchen to ask for a hang-over hypo, but now saw that it definitely wasn't the right time to ask. 

He grimaced as he wearily rubbed his temples and took a tentative step into the kitchen. 

"Listen, boss. We ain't at the end of our rope yet. We still got 24 hours to get that money—"

"7000 thrones, Seamus? Are you insane? We might—by some unseen miracle—get about 300 thrones, but that's providing we rip the Maru's insides out and sell them off piece by piece. But 7000?" She swore and put her hands on her hips, glaring darkly at the table. 

Harper bit his lip and thought something over before he shifted around uncomfortably and nervously glanced at Beka. She saw the glances and the nervous shifting and immediately, held up a hand. 

"Don't even suggest it, Harper. I'd rather lose the Maru than keep her if that's our only other option."

"But, boss, we're in a desperate situation here! There isn't any other way we could make the money. I've been smelling around the Ditch for a couple of days and I know I could get that money by tomorrow morning—"

Beka slammed her hand onto the table again, her jaw clenched and her eyes angry. 

"Harper, damn it! I told you before that there is no way in hell that we're ever going to get out of a situation because I allowed you to throw yourself at disgusting beasts who are willing to pay an obscene amount of cash for sex. Read my lips, Seamus. There is no way in hell any member of my crew is going to stoop that low. We might be desperate and we might be hanging onto the Maru by our fingernails, but I'm not going to let you save our unworthy asses like that. No way."

"Boss, this ain't no time to start whining and crying over our pride. If I have to throw away the tiny amount I've gained while I've been here in order to keep our girl with us, then so be it."

Beka stared at him for a long time, before she suddenly lost it. Grabbing her cup from the table, she hurled it against the wall. It shattered and the pieces of glass rained onto my metal grating floor. 

Harper had jumped at the smash and he cast a wary glance in Rev's direction, but Rev held up a quiet hand, telling him to stay where he was. 

While Beka stood there, jaw clenched, eyes glaring at the floor, seething with fury, Rev carefully stood up and reached out a hand towards her. 

"Beka, please—"

"Don't you dare 'Beka, please' me, Rev! It won't do any good. Don't you understand that? No matter what you try to say, no matter what we try to do, no matter how much we scream and cry and plead, we're still going to lose the Maru. And then what?" she threw her hands up and kicked the table so hard that it nearly collapsed. It was an old table.

"Then please tell me what the fuck we're going to do then, huh? We won't have a home, we won't have a ship, we won't have anything! How the hell are we supposed to keep on going, huh?"

She turned around and grabbed some dirty dishes from the sink which they hadn't bothered to clean up and put away in the past few weeks. 

She turned around and hurled them at the wall, watching them shatter with a loud crash. 

"Then how the fuck are we supposed to keep on fighting, huh? Don't they think? Don't those brainless idiots realize that it's hard enough out here without them having to come in and screw everything up?!"

Still seething in anger, she pushed past Rev and stormed out of the kitchen, not even acknowledging a crouching Harper who shrank out of her way when she passed. 

She marched down the corridor, swearing and muttering and at times stopping to kick the wall beside her and throw up her hands. 

Still ranting and raving, she went into her quarters and viciously started tearing it apart. 

She ripped open a drawer and threw the shirts and sweaters she kept in there all over the floor and then turned on her dresser and heaved it over, watching it crash onto the floor and passively watched everything which had been on it go flying to the floor and smash into pieces. 

"There! Bet those assholes didn't like that, huh? Well, they can take my damn ship away from me, sure, but I won't clean it up for them. No way in hell are they going to get a clean little ship to gloat over." Spinning around, she heaved the mattress off her bed and threw it onto the floor and kicked at it, leaving dirt smudges on it. 

She turned around and stared around her room, her eyes glimmering darkly with anger. 

"Well, if they ever wanted a clean little ship to take away and keep around for show and tell, then they won't get that chance with this one, no way! If they want another fucking trophy to put up in their damn big offices then they won't be able to do it with Ignatius Valentine's ship, do you hear me?" she screamed at the empty walls and the ruined room. "Because this is my ship! _My_ ship! Not yours!"

She turned around and leapt at her night stand and started throwing the small things she had on there around her room, not even looking if she hit the wall or the floor.

With every word, she grasped something in her hands and threw it behind her.

"Do—they—not—understand—that?!"

At the last word, she grabbed the last thing she could get her hands on and threw it at the wall behind her, watching it shatter to pieces. 

She was about to spin around and make short work of her night stand, when something caught her eye. 

Gasping for breath and visibly shaking, she stared down at the last item she had thrown at the wall. Suddenly, all the anger seeped out of her and she nearly collapsed as she paled and a grief stricken look flooded her face. 

With a tiny cry of dismay, she ran over and crouched down beside the shattered remains of glass and metal. Reaching out with shaking fingers, she rummaged through the broken shards of glass, searching for something. Finally, she found it. With shaking hands, she carefully picked it up and stared at it, tears flooding her eyes. 

It was half of the picture which had been standing on her night stand for months. It was the picture she had taken with Rev's camera during that long night where we had to pull an all nighter. She stared down at Rev and Harper's smiling faces. Harper's hair was tousled and sticking wildly all over the place and Rev's medallion glinted in the dim light. She gently ran a finger down the long rip in the picture. 

Biting her lip, she gently let the picture go and started sifting through the mess of broken glass and metal, looking for the other half. 

Finally, she found it lying half under a shirt she had thrown across her room. 

Gently, she picked it up, staring at her own smiling face. Her hair lay in wild tangles all over her face as she leaned comfortably on the pillows behind her and Harper's shoulder.

Putting the two halves beside each other, she stared mornfully at the torn picture. 

Suddenly, she could feel Harper's presence close to her. She glanced over her shoulder at the door and saw him leaning on the doorframe, staring at her with sadness. 

She swallowed a sob and stared at him. She could see his eyes roaming around the destroyed room, taking in the broken, over turned furniture and the shattered fragments of glass and plastic items and the clothes lying strewn around. 

He didn't look angry or surprised. He just looked sad. He looked down at her again and saw what was lying by her feet. 

Beka bit her lip and gestured at the torn picture, looking lost and sad. 

"I wrecked the picture, Harper." She whispered, as if that explained everything. "I didn't mean to wreck it, but I was just so angry and pissed off that I didn't see what I was throwing and I threw it and it broke." She waved a shaking, absentmindly hand at the broken shards of glass and metal of what used to be the picture frame. 

He nodded, understanding and carefully made his way across the room, making sure not to step on anything and damage it even more. 

He crouched down beside her and stared down at the broken shards of glass and then let his eyes rest on the torn picture. 

Beka was hugging her knees and was staring at the picture as if she had torn her life in half right along with the picture. 

"I didn't mean to wreck the picture, Harper. I really didn't. I was just so angry that I wasn't thinking properly and then I threw it and wrecked it." She whispered. 

Harper reached up a hand and gently stroked her back. "It's okay, Beka. I'll fix it for you. I can make another picture frame and I can glue the picture back together and it'll be just as good as new. Well, maybe not just as good. I mean, you can't take something that's been broken and put it back together exactly the same way it was. But maybe, after you put it back together, it'll be even better than before."

Beka stared up at him, tears sliding down her face. "You can fix it?" she asked. She sounded all of six years old. 

He nodded. "Yeah."

Beka nodded once more before she dissolved in bitter sobs and tears flooded her face. 

Harper leaned over and pulled her into a tight embrace, softly stroking her back and comforting her. 

"It's okay, boss. We'll be okay. I'll fix the picture and we'll clean up your room and then we'll think of something, okay? We'll get through this. Somehow. We're not going to lose the Maru, boss. I promise you that. We'll think of something." He whispered, letting her quietly cry into his shoulder as they crouched amid the shattered remains of the picture frame. 

It's funny how such a small picture frame can be put through the same hell that my crew can. One of the wonders of life which I have never been able to comprehend. 


	48. Chapter 48

The Diaries 

Chapter 48

Database Records Archive: 126 (10086)

Specific Time: Two days later, in the wee hours of the morning

Two days later, my crew was ready.  Rev had quietly contacted the FTA authorities and informed them that we weren't going to be able to pay our fines. He didn't apologize for it. After all, they weren't just going to accept the apology and let us go. No, they were going to separate me from my crew. Rev didn't have to apologize for that. Beka had spat that they should be the ones to apologize if anybody should, but I wasn't so sure. 

The FTA official had told Rev that they would tow me along with my crew to a docking station in a nearby system which was owned by the FTA. He also informed Rev that I would be kept in the station for a month before my status was changed from being 'on hold' to being 'for sale'. If my crew hadn't been able to pay off their debt by then, I could be sold to the first person who came across me in the docking station. He also said that my crew was welcome to take whatever they could carry with them and then they could stay in a nearby hotel which the FTA officials had booked and paid for them. Rev quietly nodded at that, but even Rev couldn't find it within him to thank them for it. The official had narrowed his eyes and hissed that Rev better be a lot more thankful for it, or he could just snap his fingers and make sure my entire crew found themselves on the docking station floor with nothing but the clothes on their backs. 

Rev had quietly remarked that he didn't find anything to be thankful for. After all, the official was forcing them out of their home and forcing them into a new one. He wasn't doing anything that would help them live another day. 

After that conversation, Rev had shut himself into the storage closet and spent the rest of the day praying and meditating, asking the Divine to watch out for me and for my crew, however far we might be separated. 

The next day, he joined Beka and Harper in cleaning me up and packing up the few things they would take with them. 

That first day, when my crew was forced to accept that we were going to be separated, the fear and gloom which drifted through my corridors was enough to clog my air vents. 

None of them knew what was going to happen to them or how they would live without me carrying them around and keeping them safe. For Harper and Rev, it was a simple matter of adjustment. Although I had come to be their home as much as I was Beka's home, they had never allowed themselves to believe that anything this good would last, so they quietly swallowed their fear and sadness and got ready to face whatever else they might be put up against. They were used to having to adjust their lives and having to trade off the good things for the bad just so they could keep on going. 

For Beka, it was another matter. I was her home. It was as simple as that. She had been born on me and had grown up here and had never known another home. Asides from a few scattered nights over the years, she has never spent a night somewhere other than in her room or the crew quarters. She was completely terrified. She had never even thought about living without me in her life and not being able to depend on me. She walked around in a daze, sometimes lost in disbelief and sometimes nearly succumbing to panic. Despite everything else that had happened, she had never considered losing me. It had never even entered her mind. 

Truth be told, I was scared too. Terrified was more like it. I had never been without my captain except the few years before she was born, and even then, I had the old captain to take care of me. 

I was terrified of being on my own. I have never been alone. Asides from a few scattered hours during which I'd quietly wait in a docking berth for my crew and captain to return, I have never been on my own. I was terrified. What was I going to do? Who was going to take care of me? Who was going to talk to me?

Just like my captain, I was ready to succumb to panic and fear, when my captain suddenly put her foot down. 

It happened in the wee hours of the morning on the day when the FTA officials would come and tow me away. My crew could stay onboard me until we reached the docking station. 

Harper hadn't slept a wink during the night. He had spent most of the night in engineering and the cockpit, securing and locking up all of my essential systems and shutting down my non-essential systems. My captain didn't want anybody messing around me while I was stuck in a docking berth. 

After he was confident that I was locked up and secure, he put some finishing touches on my security system and checked the cargo-hold before going into engineering and sitting down on the floor. 

Reaching up, he pulled a box down from the table. Opening it, he sifted through the contents and rummaged around until he'd pulled out a few bent pieces of metal and a plate of glass. 

Putting them on the floor, he shifted around so he could grab his nanowelder and his goggles out of his toolbelt. Then he went to work, cutting the pieces of metal up, banging the dents out of them, measuring them and fitting them together like a puzzle. 

He quietly hummed to himself as he worked. Finally, he shoved his goggles up and looked down at the newly carved and welded masterpiece he had created out of scraps of metal and glass. 

A brand new picture frame. 

Smiling, he turned it around and carefully used a knife to pry the back open. The back wasn't attached by hinges and didn't look too fancy, but it still fit. 

Reaching up to the table again, he carefully pulled down the two halves of the torn picture. Putting them on the floor, he took out a tiny bottle of white metal glue and frowned in concentration as he carefully stuck the two pieces of paper back together and made sure none of the glue would create any smudges on the picture. 

He waited for a few minutes while it dried and then carefully lifted it up and wiped the smudges off it with a scrap of cloth he carried in his toolbelt. Then he stuck the picture into the new frame and gently snapped it shut. 

Picking it up and wiping every trace of dust and grime off it, he grinned as he held it up. 

"Good as new." he said. I couldn't help but agree. 

Jumping up and leaving his tools and scraps of metal all over the floor, he ran down the corridor towards the kitchen, where Beka and Rev were busy unplugging all of my power appliances and were putting leftover non-perishable items such as coffee and the occasional can of peas into grey metal crates which they would haul up to the cargo-hold. 

Neither of them were speaking at all. Asides from the occasional "Did you turn the light off in the fridge?" or "Hand me that can, would you please?" there wasn't much else to say. Beka was still numb, half of her still not being able to accept the fact that they were going to lose me, and the other half of her wanted to scream and throw things and succumb to the panic she was trying so hard to control. She moved methodically and her eyes were empty and dull in a pale face. 

Rev was quiet too. He moved as quietly and calmly as he could, knowing that even the slightest little word could make Beka's careful rein on her panic snap. 

He and Harper had already swallowed their panic and had already thrown themselves into adjusting to this newest burden. 

Rev glanced up when he saw Harper come running into the kitchen with a grin on his face. He smiled slightly, glad to see a smile on his face. 

Harper went over to Beka and without a word, took the cans of peas she held in her arms and handed her the picture frame with a flourish before turning around to pack the cans into a crate. 

Beka remained frozen for a second, staring down at the picture frame. 

It took her a moment to realize what she was holding in her hands. When she finally realized it, a change seemed to over come her. 

Her dull eyes suddenly brightened and her spine stiffened as she straightened up. A tiny smile started tugging on the corners of her mouth. She stared at Harper, tears brimming her eyes. 

"Thank you, Seamus. You know how much this picture means to me." She whispered. 

Harper gave her a grin as he tossed Rev another can to put in the crate. "'Course I do. That's why I fixed it for you."

Reaching over, Beka pulled Harper into a fierce hug, before letting him go and ruffling his hair. A small laugh escaped her lips when Harper scowled and wiggled out of her reach, always pretending to be upset when Beka messed up his 'carefully coiffered hair'.

Carefully putting the picture on the table, my captain seemed more energetic than she had a few

minutes ago.

As she put the picture down, the emptiness receded from her eyes and that spark of determination filled them once more. Suddenly, she became oblivious of Rev moving around her packing cans into crates and of Harper locking up cupboards and disconnecting the stove's connection. 

Pursing her lips, she absentmindly ran a finger along the edge of the picture frame as she stared off, a plan slowly twisting and turning in her mind. With painstaking slowness, the plan started taking shape. It swirled and bent into impossible shapes before it untwisted itself and tried to arrange itself differently, trying to blend into a comprehensive, coherent thought. 

Finally, Beka spun around. Grabbing the can Rev was about to put into the crate, she slammed it onto the table. 

Rev's eyebrow flew up as he stared at her. 

She gave him a tight grin. "Harper, Rev. Stop packing up and dismanting our girl. We have a plan to devise and perfect and we only have a few hours to do it."

Harper slowly stood up from where he was crouching on the floor, half way inside the oven. Raising an eyebrow and obviously lost in confusion, he turned around and stared at Beka. 

"A plan, boss?"

Beka stared back and forth between the credulous, confused looks they were both giving her, before she grinned, eyes sparkling with hard determination and she yanked out the chairs from the table. 

"Don't stare are me like I'm the Vedran Empress. Get over and sit down, both of you. We're on a tight schedule."

Neither of them moved, but Harper glanced at Rev and gave him a small look. Beka saw the look. She scowled. 

"Harper, I'm not crazy. I'm not in denial. No. I'm finally out of shock. That's what this sudden change in attitude is. It's not craziness, it's rationality." When both of them still gave her weird, unsure looks, she muttered a curse and rolled her eyes. 

"Gentlemen, tell me something. What is this?" she threw her hands around herself. 

Harper raised his other eyebrow too. "Uhm, the kitchen, boss?" he tried, hoping not to say anything that would suddenly set her off. 

Beka scowled at him. "No, shorty. This—" and she waved her hands around again "—is our home. And I'll be damned if I'm going to lose it just because we don't have the money to keep her."

Rev sighed quietly. "Rebecca, we've been over this. It's either we give up the Maru and quietly leave, or they will give each of us a jail term for tax evasion—"

Beka waved that away with a scowl. "Rev, you're not understanding me here. I'm not saying that we run away or shot those assholes when they show up today afternoon. That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that we have to find a way to get the Maru back after they've impounded her."

Harper sighed. "Boss, I've already thought it over and it ain't possible. They won't let her go unless we've paid our fines. True, they're paying for our hotel fees for a month and are giving us each a hundred thrones to live off of until we can find something to do, but that tiny bit of money isn't enough to pay off our debts."

Beka gave him a hard smile. "Who said anything about paying off our debts?"

This was greeted by silence. Rev let out a horrified, resigned sigh and Harper suddenly got a huge grin on his face and his mood lifted. 

"You mean we steal her back?"

Beka smiled. "Now you're paying attention, shorty."

Rev muttered a small prayer under his breath which could have easily passed for a curse if this wasn't a Wayist we were talking about here. 

"Rebecca, Harper, please. Try to think clearly—"

"We are thinking clearly, my dear Reverend. All we need is a fool-proof plan. Besides, you're forgetting that we aren't exactly amateurs at stealing things—"

Rev sighed again. "Beka, it's one thing to steal a few paintings and jewels for a client from a hotel room on Infinity and it's quite another to steal a cargo hauler out of a FTA docking bay. It's too dangerous."

Harper smiled. "That's why we need a good plan, Rev."

When Rev still looked frantic and immensely skeptical, Beka waved a hand at him. "Rev, it'll be okay. Like my dad always said; if the plan's good enough, then the outcome will be good enough."

Rev gave her a small smile. "He didn't exacly say that. He always said if the oven's warm enough, then the cookies can't help but be baked to perfection."

Beka waved a dismissive hand. "Same difference."

Rev bit his lip as he stared back and forth between the two smiling, determined, stubborn people staring at him. 

Finally, he sighed. "Alright. This goes against everything I firmly believe in and hold any stock in and I must ask that you all remember that I'm against this insane idea, but nevertheless, I'll allow the same old rules to apply. As long as I'm not physically stealing anything, I'll help in any other way I can."

Harper grinned at him. "I knew you'd see it our way."

Rev rolled his eyes. "If you mean that I'm willing to join you in this insanity just to get our home back, then yes, I'll join you."

Harper clapped him on the back, rubbed his hands together and sat down at the kitchen table. Planning to steal me back was much more interesting than packing up cans of peas. 

Database Records Archive: 127 (10086)

Specific Time: That afternoon

A few hours later, my crew was far from having come up with the perfect plan. Every idea which any of them threw up was quickly shot down by somebodys muttered remarks about such and such interfering with that. Dozens of ideas—some rational and some bordering on insane—were dismissed after being examined and carefully chewed over by the three people sitting in the gloomy kitchen. 

By the end, Rev said that they had to start packing up their personal belongings and making sure I was presentable. But, he said, they wouldn't give up. After all, they would be given a temporary home and some money to keep them standing for a month. During that month, he was confident they could come up with something. None of them even brought up the fear of what would happen if they couldn't do anything during that month and if I would be sold to somebody else. The very thought was so terrifying that I was glad my crew threw it as far away as they possibly could. 

With a new sense of purpose and determination, my crew fanned out and started packing everything up and cleaning me up. 

Harper and Rev cleaned up the crew quarters, rolled up their blankets and pillows and stuffed them into crates. Harper threw his clothes and spare pair of boots into it and then dug around underneath the bunk bed and around it, fishing out old flexis and broken gizmos he had tried to fix. Some of them he threw into the crate, but others he climbed up into the cargo-hold and dumped into a crate which Beka had labelled as miscellaneous and contained any piece of old junk they found stuffed into corners and in the back of drawers. 

Going into engineering, Harper took a few data chips and flexis with him and then rummaged around in a box and pulled out a bunch of tools which he thought might help them later on and pulled the picture he kept in engineering off the wall. Then he carefully pulled out a box and put his connector cable, his extra wires, the cleaning patch and cleaning rod into it. Snapping it shut and carrying the armful of stuff into the crew quarters, he dumped it into the crate. Climbing onto his empty bed, he took down his scanner too and carefully turned it off, since it would start whining as soon as he was outside and around hundreds of strange biosigns. 

Then he went to the closet in the corner and checked to make sure he hadn't left any clothes in there and then pulled out his surfboard and dragged it over to the crate. Lastly, Harper snapped his tool belt around his waist, made sure his picture was in there and then pulled on his leather jacket. 

Turning to his crate, he quickly determined that he wouldn't be able to close it on his own, so Rev came over and sat on it, but Harper finally managed to snap it shut. 

Then he turned to Rev and helped him put his many books and flexis into his own crate. Rev had already folded up his blanket, picture and his spare robes and had put them away. 

Beka was busy in her own room. Rev and Harper had helped her put everything back in its right place and the few things that had broken beyond repair were things which Beka hadn't particularily cared about anyway, so they just swept up the broken shards and threw them down the recycling chute. 

My captain pulled all over her clothes out of the closet and the drawers and threw them into the crate. Going around her small room, she picked up various flexis, small bottles of perfume, hair clips and brushes and of course, her newly framed picture and carefully put them into her crate. 

When she was satisfied that she had gotten everything, she wandered into the bathroom and took out some essentials that they'd need, but things like detergent and bathroom disinfectant, she left behind in the cupboard. 

Then she went into the medical room and picked up armfuls of vitamin hypos, disinfectant patches, extra towels, empty hypos, IB boosters, anti-bacterial tablets and loads of other odds and ends she didn't want to run the risk of being without. Or rather, she could very well run the risk of being without them. Harper, however, couldn't. 

When they were finally packed, they dragged their crates over to my airlock and quietly sat on them, patiently waiting for the FTA hauler which was towing us to arrive at the docking station and stop. 

Beka had been adament about the impression she wanted to leave with these officials. Well, actually my captain had called them something else, but that wasn't very polite, so I'll just call them officials. 

She said that they might be throwing them out and treating them like crap, but that didn't mean we would act like the beaten, starved puppies we were. No way. We'd go down with our chins up, jaws clenched and wouldn't let them see how hard this was for us. 

This was why they'd scrubbed me from top to bottom and were quietly sitting and waiting for the officials. It was better than screaming and throwing things around when they got here. 

My crew would go quietly and would go with dignity and maturity. Beka had been adament about that, and Harper and Rev were quite willing to go along with that. 

Although all of them were angry and were scared and apprehensive over what the future held for them, and of course, they were constantly pushing away thoughts of 'what if we couldn't get our girl back?', but as they sat there, quiet and proud, nobody could tell. 

They only had to wait ten minutes until the FTA hauler pulled me into the docking station. It wasn't too shabby and I could glimpse neat rows of stores, restaurants and hotels through the wide open station door. The drift was quite small, but was busy and obviously well off. 

The hauler gently pulled me over to the rows of berths which had huge signs over them which read that these were 'FTA reserved'. I felt a small hint of pride. I had never been in one of these berths. It nearly made me feel special for a moment, until I remembered exactly why I was considered 'FTA reserved'.

Officials and various people rushed all over the place, quietly talking to each other and calling to their friends and associates and laughing in small groups. Parents called to their children not to run too far ahead and nearby, a Than was chittering away at some delivery boys who were steering some remote controlled crates towards his ship. 

Further away, I saw cleaning bots busily cleaning and patching up the outer hull of a glider. A small Perseid child walking by laughed at the sight of them and pulled on his mother's hand, excitedly pointing at them. 

The station was such a change from the Ditch that I could hardly believe it. Well, I had to hand it to those 'officials'. There were a lot worse places they could have dumped us, but this wouldn't be so bad.

After I was released into a berth, I received a transmission from the hauler, which I put through the corridor so my crew could hear it without walking all the way over the cockpit. 

"Captain Valentine, we have landed on Treban. Please make sure your airlock is unlocked and all of your systems are shut down. We will be coming to get you in a moment."

Beka nodded. "Understood. All our systems are locked up tight and we're ready to go."

Her voice remained level and didn't waver. I was impressed.

A few minutes later, two officials hopped off the hauler, which was hovering close by, and strode over to me. I automatically opened the airlock for them and let them in. 

They both squinted through the dim lights of my corridors as they hopped up. One of them stepped forward and gave Beka a nod. 

"Captain Valentine, I presume?"

Beka stood up and nodded. "That's right."

The man let his eyes briefly glance over Harper and Rev. "And these two are part of your crew?"

She nodded, her jaw clenched and her eyes flashing proudly. "Right again."

The other man had hopped up and was examing the contents of the crates my crew was taking with them with a scanner. Finally, he backed off and nodded to the other one. 

"Everything checks out okay. They can go."

Official number one nodded to Beka. He dug around in his pocket and handed them each a credit chip. "On this you'll find the name of the hotel where your accomodations have been paid for for a month and you will also find a hundred thrones with which you may do whatever you want. I assume you know that you have a month to pay off your fines or else your ship will be placed on the market and stands a good chance of being sold."

Beka nodded and quietly motioned for Harper and Rev to get up. 

The official gazed at them coldly. "You may go now."

Beka nodded again and my crew quietly gathered up their crates and Harper stuck his surf board under one arm and they quietly jumped out of my airlock. 

Without looking back, they quietly made their way among the throngs of people rushing about. 

I watched them go with a heavy heart, knowing I would be alone for quite a while now. 

But that little flame which burned within my crew and my captain burned within me as well. That flame of determination. 

I'd have my crew back. I knew I would. How I didn't know yet. But I knew I'd see my crew again. 

With that thought in mind, I quietly relaxed underneath the docking clamps and got ready for a long, patient wait. 


	49. Chapter 49

The Diaries Chapter 49 

Author's Ramble: Here's another chapter folks. Guess what? Trance is finally here, but probably not the way you thought she'd be. I tried to make this as original as possible and didn't want to do the old Beka-meets-Trance-in-a-bar-and-falls-for-another-sob-story, and my insane mind came up with this. I hope you'll like it. As usual, I'd love to hear what you think. Have fun reading and I promise the next chapter is on the way. 

Database Records Archive: 128 (10086)

Specific Time: A week later

I've been spending the last week amusing myself by watching the people and ships around me. At first, I had desperately scanned around for signs of my crew, hoping against all hope that they had come up with a miracle plan already and they were coming to get me, but after 78 hours, my external sensors got tired of scanning for their bio-signs. So I spent my days and nights studying and watching the hive of activity around me. 

I watched other old haulers landing in the public docking spaces and watched the suspicious, wary conversations between the old, experienced haulers and their families and small crews and the delivery boys who would flock over to them. My sensors weren't good enough to pick up what they were saying, but I could guess what it was. It was the same conversation my captain and crew had at every delivery stop we've ever made. Don't touch anything except the cargo. You don't get paid until it's all out and delivered to the right place. If you damage anything, it's your fault, not ours. 

Small gliders and larger tourist barges also made their way to the public docking space, humming in and out of the station during all hours of the day and night. Laughing  families spilled out of them in the morning and returned when the station lights were dimmed, arms laden with souvenirs and packages. They'd struggle across the crowds of tired shoppers, haulers and dealers to their gliders and barges and wearily climb into them. I'd quietly sit there, listening to their laughter and shouts. Their garbled conversations mingled together in a distorted quilt of different languages, sounds and gestures. Those sounds would be abruptly cut short when they were all onboard and somebody would slam the airlock shut. Moments later, the engines would roar to life and the ship would take off, leaving me and the station behind in an eerie silence. 

Not that it was ever really silent. Huge crowds of people and ships filled the station day and night. 

Delivery boys ran around, calling out to each other and climbing all over haulers and steering away remote controlled trolleys laden with crates. Haulers stood in quiet clusters, talking and laughing, telling each other which runs to avoid and lamenting bad routes and FTA fines. Children ran all around, climbing all over ships and ducking in and out of empty berths, pretending to be fighter pilots and famous starship captains. Tourists gaped and stared as they bustled through the station, buying anything they could get their hands on and talking to anybody they came across about the best tourist destinations this time of year and what the beaches at Infinity were like. 

But what really set this drift apart from any other I've ever seen, was the hustle and bustle of activity that emanated from the FTA offices and its workers. They all bustled around, landing sleek gliders in berths and yelling over the vid-com in their offices at poor, broken haulers. I didn't mind any of this. It was amusing and interesting to watch and kept me entertained. 

What I did mind was when people would drift over from the public docking spaces to come and inspect the impounded ships which would be for sale soon. 

This included me. 

Granted, I'm not the sharpest or cleanest looking ship around, but from a hauler's perspective, I'm a dream come true. I'm sturdy, have good, efficient systems, have a large and secure cargo hold, powerful engines and I'm fully equipt to provide a home for a family as well. 

Surprisingly, I'm not one who came up with this flattering description of myself. 

It was an FTA official named Myrond who appeared to be in charge of advertising and selling impounded ships once their former owners had been forced away from them. 

Granted, there weren't many haulers who stopped by to inquire about available haulers, but there were enough curious onlookers that they made me nervous. 

Whenever I saw small families with young children, I'd relax. They were always well off, rich and luxury dependent families who never looked twice at hauler and were always after gliders. The rich looking traders didn't concern me either. They always wanted the barges. They didn't need a ship to live on and fly in, they just needed something big and space worthy which could get their cargo and a pilot from one system to another. 

It was the haulers who concerned me. Granted, during the first few days, nobody even gave me a curious glance. I liked it that way thank-you-very-much.  

The first one of my potential buyers was a Nightsider. His eyes had lit up when he'd seen me and he had rushed over to Myrond, who was just stepping out of his office, reading over a flexi. 

He had demanded to know how much I was going for. Myrond had asked which ship he was referring to and then followed the excited, shaking finger when the Nightsider pointed at me. 

Myrond turned off his flexi and clasped his hands behind his back and pasted a smile on his face. This was his salesman posture.

He said I was still impounded and wouldn't be available until the end of the month. The excited Nightsider had waved that comment off and had demanded to know how much he wanted for me. His eyes were glowing and his nose was quivering in that annoying way. 

Myrond finally said that I was going for 95,000 thrones. The Nightsiders enthusiam immediately waned. The smile shook and slid off his face and his nose stopped mid quiver. 

Immediately, he changed tactics and wanted to know if it was possible to just go through the ship, rip out any parts he needed and buy those separately. 

I immediately shuddered at the idea and was appalled by the very thought. Obviously, so was Myrond. He said that wasn't an option and if he wanted to buy spare parts, he could shop around the drift and see what he found. 

That's when I came to see that Myrond really wasn't such a bad guy after all. Even though he might be selling me to the highest bidder and separate me from my crew, he was still a decent guy. 

My next potential buyer was a Makra who argued and haggled over lowering my price with Myrond for a good twenty minutes before giving up and leaving. 

Myrond was quite firm that I was going for 95,000 thrones, not a throne less, not a throne more. 

I knew I was relatively safe for the moment. The kind of money Myrond was asking for wasn't easily handed over by just anybody, especially haulers, and the kind of people who had that money just lying around didn't want haulers anyway. 

I spotted my next buyer before he even entered the FTA reserved docking berths. He was a Chichian. 

He was leaning against the wall of the FTA offices, trying to blend in with the surrounding crowd. He'd politely nod at people who called out to him and tried to remain casual and inconspicuous. From the way people stopped to greet him and nodded at him with smiles, I could tell he was either a well known trader or a well travelled hauler. The only reason I caught him on my external sensors was because his casual, slightly bored looking gaze drifted over to me far too many times. 

He'd nod and smile at the people filing past him and then glance over at me, letting his eyes glance over me with a frankness I found quite rude and unsettling. I knew what he was doing. From the way he was looking me over, I knew I was being appraised by an experienced hauler. 

After a while, he must have decided he liked what he saw and he casually sauntered over to me. 

Obviously he was trying very hard not to seem too interested. He wandered around the FTA reserved berths, pretending to be nothing more than a curious onlooker. 

He casually meandered around my berth a good five times before Myrond noticed him. It was obvious that my potential buyer had wanted to get a good look at me before he was interupted by the chatter of the FTA official. 

He had studied my cargo hold with narrowed eyes and pulled out a scanner to scan my hull integrity and composition. He had even ducked underneath my engines to examine my exhaust pipes and the quality of the pipes and bits and pieces of machinery stuck on my belly.

Quite frankly, he made me feel like a hypospray which lay on a tray in a shop, being inspected for sale. He made me feel almost violated. 

I was quite relieved when Myrond finally noticed him and came hurrying out of his office to greet him. 

He quickly explained that I wasn't for sale until the end of the month. The Chichian nodded and waved a hand in understanding, as if he had always known that. Besides, he pointed out, he had heard about the prize tag which was attached to me and he laughed, saying it was really out of his range. 

Myrond gave him a tight smile and then excused himself to go back to his office. Obviously he thought this Chichian was nothing more than a curious passer-by who harbored no real interest in buying me or any other vessel in the docking station. 

But I wasn't as quick to dismiss our 'casual onlooker' as Myrond had been. Call it paranoia, call it my sixth sense, call it a quirk in my systems, but something just didn't sit right with the situation. My captain and crew's paranoia and suspicions had really rubbed off on me. Well, what can I say? I'm a hauler after all. Hauler crews are always edgy and suspicious, wary of the universe around them and the people in it, and their ships are much the same. You don't get very far along in this universe if you shake every hand that's offered to you without checking for knives first. 

I frowned as I warily followed the Chichian's meandering stroll out of FTA docking space and watched as he threw one more glance over his shoulder at me and then disappeared among the crowd. 

In my experience as a hauler, I knew that nobody wasted so much energy in trying to keep up a casual front unless they have something to hide. I also knew that nobody would scrutinize and examine me so thoroughly, especially with scanners if they knew I was unavailable and they couldn't afford me. 

As I added up all these little observations in my databank, I suddenly remembered the countless times my captain and engineer had done this very same thing. Casually strolled around while carefully examining something they wanted but couldn't afford. 

With a sickening lurch, I suddenly realized what was going on. 

The Chichian intended to steal me. 

Database Records Archive: 129 (10086)

Specific Time: 2 days later

After having been left alone with only my sensors and the hustle and bustle of people and ships to entertain me for two days, I had another potential customer. 

I nearly laughed when I saw her. It's quite rare to see female haulers who go around by themselves with no crew trailing behind them and no family to account for. Even my captain has never been without either a family, crew or both. It's too dangerous and too hard. It was hard enough being a hauler, but male haulers tended to help each other out. They shared runs, passed around the news of other available haulers to their clients and generally were part of a huge, sprawling family. They viewed women as competition and either saw them as being ruthless and selfish or saw them as weak and naive sexual objects who couldn't get anywhere. This sexism has always infuriated my captain, but she has gradually adjusted to it. More than a few haulers had been surprised to discover that my captain wasn't a weak, defenceless woman who was naïve and gullible. For a while, she had been strictly viewed as competition and male haulers went out of their way to exclude her from large shipment deals and tips about bad runs and clients. But as the years went by and they saw that my captain was no threat to them and only wanted to scrape a living out of the stars just like they were doing, they granted her a grudging respect. My captain didn't have any close friends, but she did have a few scattered hauler friends who had grown to respect her and started including her in that invisible network of haulers which connects the universe in much the same way as slipstream. 

This was why I was surprised to see this lone woman wandering around the reserved docking berths, curiously examing the haulers around me. 

What I automatically noticed about her was her clothes. She wore a purple skirt and a purple shirt. Both of them were covered in sparkling green stripes. It was such a far cry from the dark clothes my captain usually wears that I had to adjust my sensors for a moment. The colors were just too bright for me. My internal sensors had gotten used to Harper's loud and insane tastes in clothes long ago, but my external sensors had now been forced into a rude awakening. 

The other thing I noticed was that she was purple. Intrigued, I zoomed my sensors closer to get a better look at her. That's when I noticed she had a long purple tail trailing behind her and that one of her ears was pointy and the other wasn't. Her orange hair had wild streaks of purple and blond in it and it was pinned up in complicated swirls with purple and pink clips which were coated with sparkles which glimmered in the dim station lights. 

Checking my database, I tried to determine what species she was, but I came up with no results. Slightly frustrated, I continued scanning her. Realizing that her bio-signs might provide me with more data, I initiated a bio-sign scan subroutine into my sensors. 

But again, I got no results. The scan came back as a garbled mess, letters and lines flowing everywhere and blinking. For a moment, I thought my data-processors was malfunctioning, but I quickly scanned a nearby Perseid and Myrond—who was sitting in his office, right across from me—and determined that they were fine. 

This intrigued me even more. Not only was she dressed strangely and seemed to be alone, but I couldn't determine what species she was. Oh, well. That simply meant I had to do my good duty as a cargo hauler. I had to continue scanning her, monitoring her activity and eavesdropping on her conversations. 

Strictly for safety purposes, of course. 

I watched her as she slowly and casually strolled around the berths. She was quietly smiling to herself and gently running her hands over their hulls and airlocks. 

That was when I detected a faint scanning signal coming from her. I quickly zoomed in closer and isolated the signal. It was coming from tiny receivers in the tips of her fingers. Tracing the signals from her fingertips, I detected very thin wires running underneath her shirt to a scanner which lay carefully concealed in a belt strapped around her waist. 

Why this strange individual had such sophisticated recording devices on her was beyond me. 

She had wandered around the other berths for quite some time, waving to people and smiling at small children who wandered by. Then she turned and strolled over towards me. 

As she got closer, I detected a change coming over her. It was so slight and subtle that I thought I'd imagined it for a moment. 

Suddenly, her stride seemed more purposeful and her shining, wide eyes looked darkers somehow. She still nodded and smiled and waved at people walking past her, but now she seemed to do it subconsciously. She wasn't paying attention to her surroundings anymore and had focused all of her attentions on me, while really, any other observer wouldn't realize she held a nanoprobe more interest in me than in any other ship. 

It was at this point that Myrond saw her. I was very glad when he came rushing out of his office, smiling widely and all business. This strange purple creature was grating on my wary hauler nerves. Something suspicious was going on here, but I didn't have enough data to come to any good conclusions. Laying aside my wary fears and paranoia, I focused in on Myrond as he approached her. 

"Good afternoon. Can I help you with anything?"

She spun around and gave him a dazzingly bright smile. Her eyes positively shone as she looked at him. 

"Oh, hi there! I didn't see you come up behind me." She smiled. "My name's Trance. What's yours?"

Myrond looked slightly taken aback by the question. I was equally surprised. She couldn't possibly be a hauler. No hauler grins at FTA officials like this—unless they want to avoid paying late fines—and no hauler offers up their name so fast. 

"I'm—I'm an employee of the FTA." Obviously, Myrond wasn't the kind to offer up his name as quickly as she had been. That grudging respect I had for the official increased by a notch. 

The purple woman—Trance—grinned at him and looked awed. "You mean you work in those big buildings over there? And you get to sit in those comfy chairs I saw in there? They must be really comfortable. I talked to my father about installing them in our old hauler, but he said they were too big and weren't good for streaming. But you see, I don't really like the old chair anymore. It's green, you see and I really don't like any green chairs. Plants are alright. Plants are green, you know. But chairs shouldn't be green."

Myrond was staring at her as if she wasn't speaking common. Clearing his throat, he effectively interrupted her meandering rambling. 

"Could I help you with anything?"

She stopped talking and smiled at him, quirking an eyebrow. "Well, that depends. Tell me what you know and then I'll tell you if I don't know that and then you can help me."

This was obviously too much for Myrond who stared at her, blinked and then launched right into his prepared speech which I had heard a million times. 

The one about me not being available until the end of the month and that I was being sold for 95,000 thrones, nothing less, nothing more. 

Trance was nodding and smiling at this and when Myrond was done, she started clapping. 

"Wow. That sounded so professional and fluid. You FTA people are all so—so professional. I can't get over it. But really, that was an excellent speech."

She patted his arm. Myrond blinked at her again and then decided to abandon his speech and throw FTA protocols out the station doors. 

"Miss, _why_ are you here?"

Trance laughed. "Well, isn't it obvious? I'm here to buy a hauler! Silly! What did you think I was doing here? Looking at the scenery? Well, I'll admit that the ships are really pretty, but the garden in the back of the Fermishi hotel is just so much prettier than metal and wires, don't you think? Or maybe you've never been there. Well, you'll definitely have to go. When you're done working and get tired sitting in that comfortable chair of yours, you can go to the garden. It really is pretty you know—"

Myrond held up a hand to halt her chatter. He didn't have time for this. 

"Miss, pardon my frankness, but you don't look like a hauler."

She laughed again. "Well, of course, silly! My father is a hauler. You see, we had an accident at Kiona Prime a few weeks ago and our poor hauler—Mindy's her name by the way—she was really badly banged up, the poor old girl and my daddy doesn't think he can fix her. So, I came here to see if I can get him a new hauler."

"That's all very fascinating, but maybe if you could come back in a mon—"

Before Myrond could get rid of her, she had spun around and run back over to me, oohing and awwing over the 'shininess' of my hull and the 'pretty color' of my docking struts.

Sighing and muttering a curse, Myrond went over to her. 

As soon as she glimpsed him standing behind her, she pointed at a scratch on my hull and demanded to know what that was. 

Myrond stared from the scratch to Trance and then back. "It's—it's a simple scratch, miss."

Trance's eyes immediately clouded and her smile faltered. "Oh, the poor baby's hurt? Oh, the poor thing. Just like Mindy."

When she looked like she might burst into tears, the gentleman parts of Myrond dictated that he couldn't just pick her up and throw her out of the station, but also demanded that he couldn't just leave her. 

"Well, there's a lot of other parts of this hauler which aren't scratched." He stammered, trying to be helpful. Obviously, Myrond didn't have any children. 

Taking her by the arm, he dragged her towards my windshield and pointed at a smooth part of my hull. 

"You see?"

Trance's smile immediately returned as she reached out a hand and gently ran it over my side. 

Excited once more, she turned to Myrond and asked if he could show her other 'pretty' parts of me. 

The entire display was so childish and touching that I nearly let myself relax and enjoy watching the interactions between the strange purple child woman and my hapless, confused salesman. 

Notice I said 'nearly' and not 'completely'. 

The reason I was still suspiciously following Trance's every move and monitoring every word she said was because every time she touched me, that damn scanner she was carrying would not only record images of me, but I felt it probe through my hull and even penetrate some of my systems. I could almost feel the data being isolated, copied and stored in Trance's scanner. 

Watching her with increased anger, I knew exactly what she was doing. 

She was a thief.

A thief with a perfect cover. 

Her appearance and behavior made her seem like a small, excited child and the way she grinned, clapped her hands and the way her multicolored curls bounced around when she ran all over the place all made her seem like a young, innocent child who was curious about everything around her. 

For half an hour, she dragged Myrond around me, ducking underneath me and running around among my docking struts and even hopping into the berth itself to stare in fascination at scratches on my belly. 

Her giddiness and excitement eventually rubbed off on Myrond, who started to be pulled in by her childish curiousity and impressed way she'd gape at him when he told her something about me. 

She dragged him all around, asking trivial questions about my colors, textures, moods and other useless information which Myrond managed to stammer nonsense answers to. 

As time went on and she had successfully confused Myrond enough, she started asking more serious, more personal questions. But she never abandoned that childish curiousity and innocence within her, her smile never faltered and she still bounced around with the giddiness of a five year old, which left Myrond helpless and breathless. 

She started asking questions about why I was here, where my crew was, how many people had been part of my crew and when my 'month' would be over. Myrond was so caught up in her childish abandon that he didn't stop to consider the relevance of these questions to their current situation, but just stammered out responses. 

I knew exactly what she was doing. She was fishing for information about my crew to determine who she had to look out for and how long she had to steal me until my crew returned. 

I admit I was quite impressed by the convincing cover she was pulling. Stringing Myrond along with a childish innocence and in a whirlwind of excitement complete with sparkling eyes, a quick, infectious smile and those childishly bright clothes all lulled Myrond into a false sense of security. Convinced she was nothing more than an innocent, excited child, he was quick to drop his shields and reservations and answered all over her questions without a thought to the consequences. The thought that she might not be as innocent as she seemed never even crossed his mind. 

Finally, she seemed to have finished her scans and her questions and she abruptly whirled and faced Myrond. 

"That was all very fascinating! Wow! You FTA people are really very professional, you know that? I think you should ask your boss for another chair. You certainly deserve it Mr.FTA official."

With that, she gave him one last pat on the arm and then turned and skipping towards the public docking spaces, her curls bouncing and the sparkles in them glittering. She turned around and briefly threw him one last shining grin before turning around and continuing her skipping, waving and smiling at everyone who passed by her, her purple tail trailing after her. 

Ignoring Myrond—who was still blinking and looking half stunned and was slowly making his way back to his office—I focused all of my attention at the receding skipping back of our mysterious purple friend. I was determined to study her until she dropped off my sensors entirely. 

She was obviously a professional and I was determined to figure out what she wanted with me. 

There were a lot of other haulers around me. True, none of their living accomodations were as good as mine—thank you Ignatius and Sid—but their cargo holds were larger and from a hauling point of view, they were worth more. 

As I watched her, I ignored the tired groan of protest my systems gave out as I forced my sensors to zoom in closer on her. She had stopped skipping by the time she reached the boundary between FTA reserved docking berths and the public ones. 

Still smiling and waving at people around her, she casually siddled up to a figure standing in a corner, reading something on a flexi and nodding at the people who passed by. 

The figure reading the flexi didn't even glance at her but merely muttered a question out of the corner of his mouth. 

My purple friend absentmindly stared at some flashing advertisements and adbugs zooming past on a screen in front of her and smiled at it with that childish curiosity. 

She gave the tiniest nod before she spun around and skipped off. Obviously, nobody was supposed to notice the tiny interaction these two had. 

I didn't think anything of it and was almost ready to dismiss this purple girl entirely, when the figure reading the flexi suddenly pulled himself out of the shadows, clasped his hands and the flexi behind him and casually strolled out of the station. He went out of the other door than my purple friend had. 

It was only when the figure stepped into visual range of my sensors that I started to panic. 

The figure was the same Chichian who had come by me a few days ago. The same one who I was convinced was a smooth talking, fast acting thief. 

And the purple girl was obviously working for him. 

Quickly I realized I was in trouble. Big trouble. 

Database Records Archive: 130 (10086)

Specific Time: Two weeks later

I was so edgy and paranoid by now that all the haulers around me had written me off as insane and were refusing to talk to me. Exactly three weeks and two days had passed since I had last seen my crew, and I knew that I only had five days left until my 'month' was up and Myrond would sell me to the first slimy idiot who passed by with 95,000 thrones in  his or her pockets. 

Naturally, I was starting to panic.

I hadn't seen hide nor hair of my crew since they had left me, dragging their belongings through the busy docking station. 

My only sense of relief came from the fact that I hadn't seen the Chichian and the strange purple girl either. 

Well, even if my crew was slow in stealing me back, I hoped that the Chichian and his little innocent worker wonder were even slower. 

As this desperate race against time continued, I found myself continually desperately scanning for my crew's bio-signs. They had to get to me first. They just had to. 

If the Chichian got his hands on me and flew me out of here, I'd never see my crew again. This was such a frightening prospect for me that I shut all those thoughts out of my data processor and instead, focused on frantically clutching at every shred of optimism I had left within me. 

My crew had to get to me first. They just had to. 


	50. Chapter 50

The Diaries 

Chapter 50

Author's Ramble: Merry Christmas, people!! Here's the next chapter. Trance finally meets our crew, but not the way you'd think. Anyway, thank you for all the kind feedback. I cherish whatever you all have to say. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Have fun reading and tell me what you think.

(_Raven sits back and starts wondering when was the last time she had ever read a story with 50 chapters. Has it really been fifty?! She checks and determines that yes, she has blabbed on and on for fifty chapters already. Amazed and stunned at this strong evidence of a lack of a social life, she sits back, but is then bored so she starts writing chapter 51_)

Database Records Archive: 131 (10086)

Specific Time: That evening

I spent the entire day frantically scanning the docking station for my crew's lifesigns. I didn't detect them.

However, that evening, when the station lights had been dimmed and families were dragging their tired children back to their gliders and tourists were returning to their hotels, I detected a familiar figure slowly strolling into the docking station. 

My security system nearly shut down. 

It was the purple girl. Trance—or whatever her name was.  

She casually sauntered into the docking station and walked over to me, her stride indicating that she was just heading home to a ship in a berth. She smiled and nodded at some of the people brushing past her, but casually continued walking towards the FTA reserved docking spaces. 

She appeared to have perfect timing. By the time she reached the FTA berths, the station lights had been dimmed to their lowest setting. With this illumination, it becomes difficult to distinguish facial features of people standing a few meters away and it becomes impossible to detect certain thieves when they duck underneath your docking struts and creep around under your belly. 

Of course I had no problems seeing her, but I knew that none of the families and haulers over in the public docking spaces could see her. 

I found myself feverishly wishing for Myrond to come and help me, but I knew I wouldn't have such luck. He had left about half an hour ago, turning off the lights in his office and locking the door. Then he went and checked the security systems of his 'charges' and then turned and sauntered over to the door, arms laden down with flexis and data disks. 

I kept a careful eye on the purple girl as she crept closer to my airlock. She was still underneath me and I could see her pausing for a moment. 

Grasping hold of her bright orange shirt, she pulled it off and then yanked off her purple and green stripped pants. Underneath these bright, eye-sore and sensor-sore garments, she was wearing a black catsuit. 

Balling up her clothes into a little ball, she stuffed them into her backpack. I noticed that the bag had been yellow with pink flowers on it, but she had unzipped a cover from it, and the fluorescently bright bag also turned pitch black. Stuffing the cover into the bag as well, she paused to pull a hood over her brightly colored, sparkling hair and then carefully crept over to the side of the berth. 

She was very careful not to touch me. If just one of her hairs brushed my hull, my night time maximum security system would kick in and I would automatically turn on a loud, wailing siren which would alert anybody on the station and in this system that somebody had gone near me. 

Myrond always kept my security system at it's minimum level so people could touch me but just not open my airlock without triggering the alarm. At night, for obvious security reasons, he turned on my maximum security system. 

I started quietly seething about the fact that I couldn't turn on my alarm myself, but no, that would require an AI and do I have one of those handy little things? Huh? Do I? No. The answer is no. And because of that, this purple _thing_ would be stealing me. 

Nimbly and gracefully, she slithered along until she reached the edge of the berth and then hoisted herself up. Standing beside my airlock, she threw a careful glance over her shoulder, but she didn't see anybody. Satisfied, she put her bag on the floor and took out a blinking little circular device. Pressing a few buttons on it and muffling the resounding beeps by covering it with her hands, she quietly typed around on it until she was satisfied. 

Taking it, she quickly attached it to my hull, pressing down three clamps on the device's sides to keep it on my hull. 

As soon as the device touched my hull, I was prepared to trigger my alarm system and send this purple thief skittering away with the wails of my security alarms, but before I could initiate those procedures, a virus flew into my security systems and savagely started ripping all of my datastreams and threads into pieces. 

Before I could initiate a virus detector program to lock on and destroy the virus, it finished eating through my defences and then started spinning in rapid circles, becoming smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared. 

Damn it! I stared in disbelief at the torn and shredded remains of my alarm system. I tried as hard as I could to trigger my alarm, but nothing happened. Not even a tiny whimper or wail. Nothing. 

I found myself mildly insulted by the speed and efficiency with which the virus had taken over and destroyed one of my most prized systems. 

But I shoved those feelings aside as I started panicking. Now I wasn't secured anymore. Now anybody could just come along and help themselves. 

The girl was frowning as she stared at the device, not being sure if it had worked or not. 

Taking out a small scanner from her bag, she waved it around for a minute and then skimmed over the readings. A brilliant smile lit up her darkened face as she reached up and dislodged the virus device from my hull. Stuffing it into her bag, she went and placed her hands onto the pad beside my airlock. 

I had been staring at her, half paranoid and half optimistic. Although she had turned off my security systems, I knew she couldn't open my airlock without the proper codes. There wasn't any other way to get into me. Harper had long ago gone over me with a fine tooth comb to make sure every single little hole had been patched up and locked down. Remembering how easily Harper had snuck onboard the very first night I had seen him, I can't help but be thankful. 

I was starting to feel a little smug as the girl frowned and bit her lip. Yup, you can tear apart my security system, but you can't get it, now can you? Well, that would be because I'm what they call an 'impressive' ship. 

These optimistic and half smug thoughts ground to an abrupt halt when the girl placed her other hand over the pad and then slowly closed her eyes. 

What the hell was she doing? I started scanning her, trying to figure out if she was trying to pull the combination out of the pad by a sheer force of will, but I quickly ended that process when the only results my scans got were garbled messes of lines, numbers and letters that didn't even begin to make sense. 

As I watched her, she frowned in concentration with closed eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly, I felt—I felt—_something_ moving from the pad through my hull and into my environmental controls. From there, that—that—_something_ moved into my environmental control database and from there slowly drifted into my main database. 

I tried stopping it and forcing it back, but I couldn't even faze it. It didn't harm me in any way and wasn't aggressive at all, but simply drifted along until it reached my security system folder and then gently sifted through the datastreams until it found the airlock security code. 

After it had quietly skimmed across the combination, it released that datastream and let it drift back to where it had been before and then it started slowly leaving my systems the same quiet, gentle way it had come. 

Apprehensively, I watched and waited until I felt that—that—_thing_ retreating through my hull and through the airlock pad and back into Trance's fingers. 

Abruptly, Trance gasped and her eyes flew open. Smiling to herself, she quickly punched in the correct security code. 

It took me a moment to understand how she knew the code. Suddenly, everthing became a lot more clearer and I understood what that thing had been. 

It had been Trance's mind. Somehow, this mysterious, childish purple pixie with a dazzling smile and a child like enthusiam for everything had penetrated my systems and had interfaced with my systems using only her mind. She had done exactly what Harper does, except she doesn't have a port and didn't use a VR visor like Beka sometimes does. 

I found myself half surprised and half terrified of this newly found ability of this purple thief. All childish looks and thieving talents aside, she was one heck of a powerful being. Whatever kind of being that might be. 

I was about to start scanning her again and trying to figure out what she was so I could figure out a way to get rid of her, but suddenly, both mine and Trance's plans ground to an abrupt halt. 

Suddenly, the station was flooded with light when somebody turned on full illumination and a screeching siren turned on and filled the station with its incessant wailing. 

For a moment, both Trance and I stared around, confused and startled. Trance was the first one to regain her senses. 

Grabbing her bag, she swung into my open airlock—which I had tried to shut, but hadn't been able to—and quickly slammed it shut behind her. Gasping for breath but still remaining calm, she pushed the black hood off her colorful, bright hair and  then punched in the security code again and I reluctantly locked the airlock again. 

Damn it, where the hell was the crew?! Trance had picked up her bag again and had run into the kitchen and was cautiously peering out of a window. For a moment, I was amazed by the fact that she knew exactly where the kitchen was, but then I remembered all those scans she had taken when she had last come to see me. She probably knew me as well as my own crew did. Damn it. 

That was when I decided to start paying attention to what was going on outside. With any luck, this little diversion would bring Myrond or my crew running back to me so they could grab me before this purple mystery could fly me off somewhere. I was on the verge of panicking, since I knew she just had to sit down in the piloting chair, unlock my navigational controls and go, but since she hadn't immediately headed over there, I guessed her boss hadn't instructed her to fly me off right away. This was when I realized I still had an ice cube's chance in hell—a tiny chance, which was nevertheless still a chance—to save myself somehow. 

Desperately scanning the docking station, I tried to find any signs of my crew, but I found myself distracted by the pandemonium that had commenced in the station.  

I had no idea what was going on and thus, resigned myself to watching the crowds and the confusion around me with much the same bewilderment that my purple thief was, who was still staring out the kitchen window. 

As soon as the siren had started wailing, people had started running every which way in the station. Tourists streamed in through the doors, pushing and shoving people as they yelled and swore at each other, struggling towards their barges. Families yanked young children along and nervously pushed strands of hair behind their ears as they screamed through the crowds for people to hurry up. Airlocks were being slammed shut and engines were being revved up. 

Dull clanging filled the station through the cursing, yelling and engines firing as docking clams were unclamped and small gliders lifted into the air and flew in wild patterns towards the launching doors. 

Emergency lights were wildly blinking in time with the wailing siren and an automated voice had turned on, its calm computer voice lost among the sweltering noise of the people crowding the station. 

FTA officials fought their way through the crowds, yelling and cursing like everybody else as they struggled towards their offices, punched in the codes to unlock their doors and ran inside. Grabbing anything they could carry, they ran down the long platform of FTA reserved berths and climbed into those fancy little FTA gliders and nearly tore the controls out of the them as they spun them around and shot them through the launching bay doors. 

Some of the officials didn't even bother to go into their offices, and just shouted at their collegues to get into gliders and go. 

I scanned the crowd for Myrond, hoping he would somehow see what had happened to me and would help me, but no such luck. 

I nearly missed seeing my salesman leaving as he leapt into a glider, yanked somebody else in after him and hastily took off, almost forgetting to close the hatch. 

That was the last time I would ever see Myrond. 

I turned my attentions back to the crowd, which had been set into a wild frenzy as the computer voice droned on. People poured out of the hotels and night clubs and bars and filled the station, screaming, pushing and swearing their way towards their ships. Tourists shoved each other out of the way, yelling at each other in strange languages I didn't understand. Pushing each other and swearing, one of them even grabbed somebody in front of them and yanked them away from the airlock and roughly pushed past them and pulled themselves into the barge, into safety's arms. 

Traders and dealers were slowly making their way through the crowd, arms laden with supplies, screaming at their workers to hurry up with the crates and cursing at the people around them until the crowds parted slightly to allow them to pass through. 

Curious children were staring around in bewilderment until their parents yanked them roughly towards their ships and slammed the airlocks shut. 

The station had become a melting pot of panicky, frightened people who shoved and pushed and swore at each other in order to get into their ships and get out of the station as quickly as possibly. 

I watched in stunned amazement. I had never seen this many people whipped up into this kind of a panicked frenzy. Perseids, Makra, humans, Nightsiders, Chichians, Gregans, and even a few hairless T'Kaths were all pushing their way into the station in throngs, the noise level not allowing anybody to hear anything except their own screaming, terrified voice. 

Determined to figure out what was going on, I focused my sensors on two nearby Makra, who seemed to be the only people who hadn't succumbed to panic. They were sitting in the open airlock of their hauler and were watching the people with slight hints of amusement. One of them was sipping from an open bottle. The other was chuckling quietly as he absentmently played around with his whiskers. 

"Crazy how whipped up you can get 'em, ain't it?"

The other Makra laughed, nodded and raised his bottle in agreement.

"If they get this whipped up about a little terrorist showing muscle, I'd hate to see 'em if a fire broke out."

His partner cocked a furry eyebrow. Or rather, where his eyebrows would have been if he wasn't furry all over. 

"You don't believe it?"

The other one shrugged. "I didn't say that. It seems unlikely, yeah and I have my doubts, but I still think we should get out of here, just in case. I mean, there's a lot of haulers who put up a fuss about the FTA geezers, but there ain't many that make threats like this."

His friend nodded. "Better safe than sorry. Besides, if we're wrong and this place doesn't explode into particles in ten minutes, we can always come back. And if we're right and those spacial charges are really out there, then we can sit and finish up our drink elsewhere, what do you say?"

His friend grinned and then clapped him on the shoulder. Throwing one last look at the panicked crowd fighting their way to their ships, he pulled himself up and into his ship. His friend followed him and slammed the airlock shut, taking one last sip of his bottle before the airlock shut. 

Minutes later, I saw the ship's engines powering up and its docking clamps released and the ship slowly drifted over to the open launching doors. It passed through the forcefield and then was gone, joining the other frightened ships which were hurling themselves through space, not caring where they were going but just getting as far away from the station as possible. 

Piecing together the snatches of conversation I had just heard, I slowly started panicking. 

Somebody must have planted spacial charges around the station and that somebody was getting ready to detonate them. The motivation behind it still eluded me. Maybe they were crazy, or like the Makra said, they were protesting FTA fines and regulations. That made me think. Obviously, our culprit had to be a hauler. Traders and dealers had nothing to do with the FTA and the rich and lazy didn't even know the FTA existed. 

If this culprit was a hauler then maybe—suddenly, everything became clear to me. This must be my crew's distraction. It had to be. It was a perfect distraction.  

That flame of hope within me flickered to life once again. Ignoring the confusion of the purple thief who was biting her lip and nervously scanning the crowds outside my window, I resumed my tireless scanning for my crew's bio-signs. 

It didn't take me long to find him. 

I detected him long before I saw him. He was hurrying towards me, lost in the panicked, noisy crowd. He was wearing his leather jacket and the collar was turned up to keep prying fingers away from his port. He joined in with the demeanor of the crowd, pushing and shoving and swearing at the people around him to hurry  up. When he had fought his way through the worst parts of the crowd, he hurried along the platform towards me. 

He casually scanned the FTA reserved docks for any leftover FTA officials who hadn't fled yet. Spying two of them just getting into a glider, he spun around and busied himself with examining a crate behind him. To anybody who passed by, he appeared to be busy trying to frantically pull the huge crate towards his ship. Nobody even glanced at him. 

When he heard the glider's engines firing up, he carefully kept his eyes down and continued being absorbed with desperately tugging the crate towards himself. 

Finally, the glider lifted up and flew towards the launching bay doors, nearly colliding with a huge tourist barge which was just getting ready to lift off. 

Right away, Harper casually spun around, and scanned the FTA reserved docks. Eyes darting around, he saw the coast was clear and he started strolling towards me, his stride determined and filled with purpose. Sauntering around when the station was about to blow up would arouse suspicion. He had to act the right part in order to pull it off. 

Hurrying over to me, he was careful to continually glance around for anymore FTA officials, but made sure he wasn't too obvious in his glancing around. 

Reaching me, he quietly asked me to override my security system. I quietly answered that my systems had already been overriden and were disengaged. His eyebrows flew up and he instinctively took a step back. 

His eyes narrowed and he glanced around me, peering underneath me and took another step back to look up at my cargo hold. Seeing nobody there, he bit his lip. 

I will forever be grateful that my crew aren't idiots. Although I couldn't tell Harper that there was somebody inside me already, I knew he could make his own conclusions. And he did. 

Yanking out his gun, he turned the safety off and reached up and quickly punched in the security code for the airlock. 

Obeying the command, I opened my airlock. 

In the meantime, Trance had decided to act on her own. Apparently, this purple thief wasn't stupid either. She knew that now was a hell of a good time to get away. 

She had left the kitchen and was hurrying down the corrridor towards the cockpit. She had just turned the corner and was nearly past Beka's quarters, when she heard my airlock opening. 

Eyes widening, she quickly spun around and flattened herself against the wall. Eyes darting around, she appeared to be searching for a weapon of some kind. 

At the same time, my engineer had swung himself up through my airlock. He quietly whispered that I should lock the airlock and intiate a level three lockdown. This means that the old security code couldn't open the doors. If Trance happened to reach the airlock without Harper seeing her, she would have to do her little mind thing again in order to figure out the new code, which would give Harper plenty of time to find her. 

As soon as I had slammed the airlock shut and had obediently put a level three lockdown on it, Harper crouched down, eyes darting around,  his gun held in two firm, unwavering hands. 

Cautiously creeping forward, his eyes glanced into the far corners and even skimmed the ceiling. Realizing there was nobody close to him, he quietly sniffed the air. Immediately, he smelled the alien presence. 

Quietly putting his gun onto my metal grating, he quietly undid his boots and pulled them off. Picking up his gun again, he crept along the floor with that old graceful cautiousness, his bare feet not making a sound on my floor. 

Peering into the kitchen, he glanced around the room and under the table. Like always, he narrowed his eyes and carefully scrutinized the ceiling. Not finding anybody, he backed out of the kitchen, still slithering along the ground and constantly keeping his gun trained into distant corners. 

When he was in my corridor again, he decided that it was too dangerous to creep down the corridor when anybody or anything could just jump on him at any moment. Creeping over to my wall, he used the pipes and ridges to climb up onto the ceiling. Tucking his gun securily into his pants, he quietly pushed a button and I dislodged the hatch from my airvents which run above every room and corridor in me. The hatch swung open and he quietly pulled himself inside, closing the hatch behind him. Keeping his gun in his hands, he stretched out on his stomach and slowly slithered forwards, not making a sound and keeping his eyes glued at the corridor beneath him, which he could glimpse between the dark metal grating of the airvents. 

Meanwhile, my purple thief had decided to find herself a weapon. Cautiously, she peered around the corner. Not seeing anybody, she turned to the wall beside her. Holding out her hand and staring intently at a pipe, I felt the pipe loosening and moments later, it quietly dislodged from the wall and drifted over to her. 

Grasping it in her hands, she went back to standing in her corner, eyes scanning around. She appeared to be listening quite intently, but Harper wasn't making a sound as he crept closer and closer to her. 

Biting her lip, she turned around and put her hands onto my walls. Immediately, I felt that—that—_something_ leaving her hands and drifting into my walls. It was still eerie to feel that gentle, glowing presence slowly drifting through my systems, pipes and walls, not damaging anything but just looking. 

I was suddenly apprehensive about the whole situation. I knew that Harper could fight extremely well and extremely dirty when his life depended on it, but this Trance individual seemed to have some strange powers. I started fearing a confrontation between the two of them. Usually in these circumstances, I would be frightened for Harper's opponent, who usually never knew what hit them. But in this case, I found myself being afraid for my engineer. 

As it turned out, my engineers sense of smell and that eerily finely honed sixth sense of his were better than Trance's mind searching technique. 

Harper found her while Trance's mind was still roaming through my systems, trying to find Harper. 

He froze as soon as he spied her standing a few meters before him and under him. He frowned as he stared at her frown of concentration and her closed eyes as one hand touched my wall and the other clutched a pipe. 

Keeping his gun tucked in his pants, he quickly pulled his legs under him, ready to pounce. Leaning forward, he quickly tapped the button which was embedded in the wall of the vent. Immediately, I swung open the hatch and he didn't waste a second before he pounced. 

Like a cat, he fell right onto Trance, ripped her hand off my wall and they both hit the floor with a heavy thud. Trance's eyes had flown open and she was staring around, disoriented and trying to understand what was going on. 

Harper wasn't going to give her that chance. Still acting soundlessly and with that lightening quick gracefullness that has always impressed me, he pushed her to the floor, kept one of his knees in her back and used his other leg to keep her legs immobile. He twisted both of her arms behind her back and held them there while his other hand ripped the pipe from her hands and threw it down the corridor with a dull clatter. He tore his gun out of his waistband and held the muzzle against her temple. 

"You move even a tiny finger and I'm gonna paste your brain all over these walls." His voice was quiet but dead serious. 

By this point, Trance had reconnected with her surroundings and she quickly started fighting back. 

Twisting around, she tried ripping her arms out of Harper's grasp and tried to throw him off her. 

Harper grit his teeth and put his finger on the trigger. Realizing he was about to shot her, Trance squirmed until she could look directly at the gun. 

Narrowing her eyes, she stopped struggling and seemed to be directing all of her thoughts and energy towards the gun. 

With a gasp and a slight yelp, Harper suddenly threw the gun away from him, staring in confusion at his singed, raw red fingers. The gun which he had thrown away was smoldering, lying on the deck. 

Harper narrowed his eyes and stared down at the mysterious being he still had pinned beneath him. 

"That wasn't a very nice trick." He muttered. 

"Neither is pinning somebody to a metal floor." She retorted. 

Harper's mind wasn't completely on the task at hand anymore. When he winced and stared at his burnt hand again, Trance used his momentary lapse in concentration to her advantage. 

Ripping her hands out of his grasp, she grabbed a fistful of his jacket and ripped him off her with surprising strength. 

Harper yelped as he was thrown off her and he hit the wall. Quickly regaining his senses and all thought of his hand forgotten, he launched himself onto Trance, eyes narrowed. I knew that look. It meant that Harper was now prepared to fight for his life and nothing else around him mattered anymore. 

They collided and fell to the floor again with a heavy crash. For a few minutes, the only sounds were spitting, punches landing with deadly accuracy and muttered curses. 

Trance had the advantage of superior strength, but Harper was quicker and was fighting dirtier. 

As I watched them struggling and fighting each other, I saw that Trance seemed to be restraining herself. I could glimpse several good openings where she could have easily strangled Harper or thrown him off her, but she seemed determined to fight fair. 

Harper however, didn't have any such thoughts. When one of her hands reached for his throat, he twisted around and viciously bit her hand, drawing purple blood. With a small cry, Trance yanked her hand back. 

Harper used the opportunity to twist her arms behind her back again. When Trance squirmed and tried to resist, he tightened his grip. Suddenly, a sickening crunch and a muffled cry of pain came from Trance. 

Harper immediately released one of her wrists, realizing he had broken it. 

Harper risked a glance out the nearest window and hoarsely asked me what time it was, still gasping for breath and keeping a wary eye on Trance. 

I told him what time it was. I was surprised to discover that only ten minutes had passed since he had opened my airlock. 

Harper's eyes widened when he realized he had to hurry up and get me out of here before the FTA officials saw through our carefully planned hoax and would return. 

Swearing under his breath, he leaned down. The same thoughts that were running through my database were probably running through Harper's. It would take time to shoot this purple enigma and dispose of her body and time was something Harper didn't have. Besides, Beka wouldn't be too pleased to learn that he had dealt with the situation like that. Throwing her out the door and calling the cops was a more civil way of doing things, but when you're about to steal an FTA impounded vessel, you don't call the cops. Common sense. Quickly, Harper made up his mind.

"You're gonna get up when I say you can and then you're gonna walk where I tell you, got it? I'm gonna keep one hand on your broken wrist and the minute you try to run, I twist it, got it?"

Trance quietly nodded, biting her lip and squirming. 

Harper pulled her up and kept on hand on her broken wrist. He kept a light grip on it, but was ready to tighten that grasp and twist should Trance decide to try anything funny. 

He lead her over to the storage closet and opened the door. Shoving her in, he was about to slam the door shut when he bit his lip and glanced down at her. 

"If you want, I can get you a dermal regenerator for your wrist. I don't know how long you're going to be sitting here."

Trance glanced at him and then smiled that childish little grin of hers. "That's not necessary. It isn't broken."

Harper frowned and stared at her. I did too. Of course the wrist was broken. I had heard it snap and had run a scan on it. The break had been clean but still complete.

Trance grinned and held up her formerly broken wrist and moved her hand around. It was perfectly normal. I quickly ran a scan. It was perfectly healed. 

Harper blinked and took a cautious step back from her. "But—but I broke it. Just now. I heard it snap. I know it was broken."

Trance nodded, eagerly agreeing with him. "Oh, yes, it was broken."

At Harper's confused stare, she smiled and laughed. "But now it's not."

Harper raised an eyebrow. "How the hell is that possible?"

Trance shrugged, still evading the question. "It was broken, now it isn't." she answered simply, as if she was amazed that Harper hadn't come to this conclusion on his own. 

Harper was about to demand a better explanation, but then remembered that he didn't have the time to argue with mysterious purple beings right now. 

Slamming the door shut and telling me to lock it securily, he shook his head as if to forget about this incident and then ran down the corridor towards the cockpit, carefully hopping over his lightly smoking gun on the floor. 

Leaping into my piloting chair, he quickly ran down a long list of authorizations, disengaging numerous lockdowns on various systems. As my systems turned on, the screens and consoles around me came to life with a low hum. Harper quickly reved up my engines and smiled when he heard my engines sighing and then rumbling and whiring as they slowly woke up from their month long nap. 

Pulling his seatbelt on and clicking it on himself, he punched around on his navigational screen.

Reaching up and turning down his collar, he quietly spoke into a little black communicator he had clipped inside his jacket. 

"Boss? You reading me okay?"

There was a dull crackle of static, but my captain's voice carried through the static. 

"I'm hearing you, shorty. Did you get in okay?"

He nodded, completely forgetting that she couldn't see his nod through the communicator.

"There were some problems, but I took care of them. Do you and Rev have all our junk ready?"

There was a short crackle as Beka spoke to Rev in the background. Then:

"Yeah, we're all good to go. Just swing around and grab us in the drop off zone next to the Fermishi hotel, got it?"

"Got ya, boss. I'm on my way." With that, he turned off the communicator and pushed a button. Obediently, I undid my docking clamps and pulled up my docking struts. 

Shoving my controls forward, Harper carefully guided me up and through the crowds of people and ships madly making their way to the launching bay. He had to swerve around a few gliders which were hovering in the middle of nothing, their pilots obviously too confused and panicked to move. Then he nearly collided with a barge which was madly rushing towards the doors. I nearly swore at the barge. When you're that big and bulky you don't madly rush anywhere. It's common decency. 

Finally we reached the doors and Harper flew through them and immediately yanked me around and we slingshot around the station. Punching around on my navigational console, he finally spied the hotel and the public drop off berths right beside it. 

As I flew towards the berths, Harper and I had to frantically dodge panicky gliders and haulers which were madly ripping themselves out of the berths, spinning around and hurling away from the station. 

Throngs of people filled the walkways of the berths, which were surrounded on one side by the long corridor of the drift and the other three sides were protected by a strong forcefield. 

It's slightly eerie for somebody to stand on the thin wooden walkways between the berths, which were really just gaping, yawning holes of black space. The forcefield around the berths was strong enough that if anybody accidently fell off the walkways, they wouldn't go drifting endlessly through the black eternity of space, but they'd receive a nasty shock as the forcefield saved their lives and kept them suspended in midair until station officials or delivery boys could grab them and yank them back up to safety.

Harper guided me into one of the berths and immediately got up and ran down the corridor towards my airlock, leaving my engines running. Punching in the level three security code, he waited as I yanked my airlock open. 

Immediately, throngs of people tried forcing their way inside, but Harper kicked at their hands and hissed at them to stay back. He had automatically put his hand down to grab his gun, but he quickly realized it wasn't there. 

Suddenly, I spied Rev and Beka struggling through the crowds towards me. I was so happy to see my captain and the rest of my crew that I thought I'd fall through the berth despite the docking clamps keeping me in place. 

Reaching up, Beka and Rev tossed Harper their crates and his surfboard, all the while, hissing and swearing at people not to touch me. 

Finally, my crew swung up through my airlock and slammed it shut, locking it down. 

Quickly, my captain ran down my corridors and threw herself into the piloting chair and quickly undid the docking clamps and backed me out of the berth. Then she twisted me around and shoved my controls forward. Obediently, I picked up speed and shot through the empty darkness of space and stars towards the nearest slipstream portal. 

Opening it and typing in coordinates, Beka tightened her hands on my controls and then shoved me forward, throwing me into the streams embrace. As I went hurling along the silver chains of flickering electricity, guided along by my captain, I couldn't help but let an enormous weight drop from me.

I was safe, my crew was safe and we were leaving Treban and Myrond far behind. 

Once more, I could leave my fears, my paranoia and my anxiety behind and be care free as I fly through space, just me, my crew and the stars. 

At the time, I didn't think about all the loose ends I had left behind on Treban, and the loose end sitting in my storage closet, quietly hugging her knees to her chest. No. At the time, all I was thinking was that I was finally safe and I would never be separated from my crew ever again. 


	51. Chapter 51

The Diaries 

Chapter 51

Author's Ramble: Well, folks, here's the next chapter and the end is clearly in sight. I can see it from here. _(Raven ducks down as people start throwing heavy objects at her)_ I know, I know nobody wants it to end, but people, every story has to have an ending. One or two more chapters and that ought to do it, that is, if my muse doesn't decide to kick me in the head and throw two or three more brilliant ideas my way, but we'll see. As always, thanks for all the kind feedback. Have fun reading and tell me what you think. 

Happy New Year!!

Database Records Archive: 132 (10086)

Specific Time: Three hours later

Three hours later, my captain had streamed far enough away from Treban and any nearby FTA route that she felt she could turn on my auto-pilot and just let me drift through space. 

I have never been so glad to see space in my entire existence. The endless black expanse sprinkled with twinkling stars and glowing nebulas had never seemed so beautiful to me as it did right now. My captain seemed to feel the same way. After she had released my controls and unsnapped her seatbelt, she stayed slumped in her chair, her arms dangling over the armrests, looking as content and happy as a Nightsider in a bank. 

She let out a huge sigh and grinned as she looked around my cockpit. 

"Well, I missed you old girl." She said quietly. Well, for the record, I missed you too, captain. Very much. 

Sighing again, she pushed herself up and ran a hand through her hair. Striding down the corridor, she nearly tripped over Harper's crate, which was still lying in the middle of the corridor. 

Muttering a curse, she picked it up and dragged it into the crew quarters. 

Rev and Harper were busy putting all of Rev's books back on the shelves Harper had put up for him on the walls beside his bunk. 

Beka stood in the doorway and let Harper's crate drop onto the floor. "Shorty, I'd be most grateful if you didn't keep your junk lying around the corridors. It isn't good for my health."

Harper shot her a feisty grin over his shoulder as he bent down to pick up another handful of books to hand Rev. "Well, if you looked where you were going boss, it wouldn't be a problem."

He drawled. 

Beka narrowed her eyes and leaned over. Snagging one of Rev's robes from the open crate, she threw it at Harper who let out a muffled curse as he tried to untangle himself.

Rev put down a pile of books onto his bed and smiled as he helped Harper out from under the robe. 

"Really, Rebecca, please refrain from throwing my robes around like this. They aren't meant to be corrupted in this manner."

Harper narrowed his eyes at both of them when Rev chuckled and Beka burst out laughing. 

He was about to retort back a nasty response when Beka shoved his crate further in. 

Still chuckling, she held up a hand. "Fine, fine, fine, truce, okay? Here, I already got my junk put away and if you get your skinny little mudfoot ass over here, I'll help you unpack this mess in here."

His glare dissolving into a grin, he stuck his tongue out at a still chuckling Rev and then stepped over Rev's crate towards his own. 

Beka snapped it open and her eyes widened as she stared at the mess in there. Grimacing, she crouched down and gingerly picked up a dirty shirt. 

"I'm almost afraid to ask when this specimen has last been washed."

Harper scowled and snatched the shirt from her. "It's still clean." He glanced it over. "Well, sort of."

Beka shook her head and grabbed the shirt back and sent it flying towards the door. 

"I don't think so." Before Harper could put up a protest, she held up a hand. "Look, I'm doing my own laundry later on today anyway. I'll just throw in yours too. No big deal."

"Thanks boss."

She smiled. "No problem. As long as you get your butt into engineering when we're done cleaning up and you finish unlocking everything. I think the ventilation system still hasn't fully kicked back into gear. The air smells musty."

Harper rolled his eyes as he grabbed a pile of dirty clothes from his crate and sent them sailing towards the door where they landed in a messy pile. "Spacers!" he shook his head. "You think _this_ smells musty?"

Beka stuck her tongue out at him and swatted him with a shirt which she then tossed into the pile.

Suddenly, Rev frowned. Spinning around, he quickly held up an abrupt hand and froze. Beka immediately swallowed her retort and stared at Rev. 

Rev cocked his head as he intently listened to something. By Beka's blank face and the way she was looking at Rev, I knew that she didn't hear anything. 

Harper frowned at Rev. 

After standing like that for a while, Rev slowly lowered the books he'd been holding onto his bed. He frowned.

"I thought I heard something."

Beka immediately went into action. "Where?" she whispered. 

Rev frowned again and nodded towards the corridor. "Out in the corridor, I believe. I'm not too sure but it seemed to come from within the walls."

Beka looked at Harper. "Harper, I want you to go to engineering and run a diagnostic on the Maru's internal systems. If something broke loose and is rattling around somewhere, it could throw us into major trouble later on—" Her voice broke off when she saw Harper's frown suddenly change into a look of shook. He stared at Beka, his eyes wide and his face pale. 

"Oh, shit. I forgot all about her."

Beka frowned and Rev's eyebrows rose. "Her?" They both asked in unison. 

Harper licked his dry lips and muttered a curse. "Oh, my god, I'm so dumb. Unbelievable."

He was about to continue berating himself when Beka grabbed his arm. "Shorty, this isn't the time to yell at yourself. What the hell are you talking about?"

Harper sighed. "When I came to get the Maru, I wasn't alone. There was some purple girl in here already. She had gotten in somehow and disabled the Maru's security systems. Anyway, she was on her way to the cockpit and I tackled her. I was going to dump her out the door, but I didn't want to risk having her climb back in somehow and slit my throat while I was driving so I locked her into the closet."

Beka briefly closed her eyes and groaned. "You locked a stranger—a _thief_—into our storage closet and you forgot about her?"

Beka shook her head and looked like she was about to chew Harper out, but then she froze as they all heard the unmistakable sound of the storage closet doors opening.

Spinning around, my crew momentarily froze as they stared at the crew quarters door. Then Beka leapt into action. Tugging her gun out of its holster, she turned the safety off and quietly crept towards the door. She motioned for Rev and Harper to come with her. Harper pulled out his fixed and cooled gun and quietly crept up behind Beka. Rev was on the other side of the doorframe and was cautiously peering down the corridor. 

He frowned. "The closet door's open." He whispered. 

Harper's eyes widened. "How the hell did she—?"

Beka waved her gun and stopped him. "That doesn't matter now. What matters is that she might be creeping around the ship and we have to get to her before she turns us into fireworks."

Waving her gun and indicating that they should follow her, Beka slowly crept down the corridor. Glancing over her shoulder, she gave Harper a look and nodded her chin towards the door. I could see the two of them quietly counting to three in their heads before they leapt forward and stood shoulder to shoulder, unwavering guns pointing into the closet. 

They both blinked when they saw the strange purple girl sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest and her tail curled around her. 

Unlike the rest of my crew, I hadn't forgotten about our charming enigma for a moment. She had quietly sat on the floor for the past three hours. From time to time, she'd sigh and stare around the closet. For a while, she just sat there, thinking that Harper would come and let her out. When it became obvious that he had no intention of doing that, she had amused herself by blowing on piles of dust in the corners of the my closet and seeing the dust flakes swirling through the air and quietly drifting back down. When she got bored of that, she started quietly humming a song to herself and flicked her tail around to keep the rhythm. 

After that, she finally sighed. "Okay, I'm bored now. Can I come out now? I promise I won't try to steal your ship anymore." She quietly called through the door. Then she waited for a response. When none came except for Beka's muffled cursing as she tripped over Harper's crate in the corridor, Trance sighed and started blowing on dust balls again. 

Finally, she realized that the rest of my crew had forgotten all about her and she'd have to remind them. So she got up and put her hands to the door and closed her eyes. Immediately, that familiar glowing presence drifted into the locking mechanism for the door and gently prodded it until the lock clicked. 

Then the gentle essence drifted back into her fingers and Trance stepped back and made herself comfortable again. I was staring at her in confusion. She had just unlocked the closet door, so why was she still sitting here? Maybe she was just trying to get my crew's attention. Well, looking into the crew quarters and seeing how Rev had heard the click, I quietly congratulated her. 

I continued expecting her to just get up, walk out, kill my crew and fly me back to her Chichian boss, but she didn't. She patiently waited on the floor, waiting for somebody to come and let her out. When nothing happened, she sighed again and looked up at the door. Holding her breath, she narrowed her eyes and focused all over her attention and energy onto the door. 

Immediately, I felt my control over the door slipping away from me and I could just stare in amazement as the door quietly swung open. 

Trance still didn't move. She cocked her head and smiled quietly when she heard my crew creeping down the corridor towards her, but she made no move to protect herself. She just continued sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, her tail curled around her. 

As soon as Harper and Beka leapt around the corner and froze in front of the open closet door, guns pointing straight at her, she let out a little sigh of relief. I guess she was just relieved that she hadn't been entirely forgotten. 

For a moment, I expected her to scream or to try and make a run for it, but she did neither of these things. This surprised me, but back then, I still wasn't used to it. Later on, I would quickly learn never to put any expectations into a situation where Trance was concerned, because this strange enigma never failed to trample them into the ground, go against every logical datastream in my being and surprise the hell out of me. 

She grinned up at them. "Oh, good. I thought you forgot all about me. I'm so glad you remembered. You see, I was getting bored—"

Beka abruptly cut her off. "Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing on my ship?"

Trance smiled. "I'm Trance Gemini. As to what I'm doing here? Well, right now I'm talking to you, but just a few minutes ago, I was playing around with the dust balls in here. You know, most people find dust balls so annoying and dirty, but they're really quite fun to play with 

and—"

Beka looked slightly overwhelmed and Harper was shifting around uncomfortably. Rev had his head cocked and was curiously staring at this chattering child-like alien who didn't appear a bit fazed at facing two deadly guns and two confused humans. I recognized the game she was playing. She was trying to confuse Beka with her childish nattering so she could manipulate the situation to her own advantage. Although what advantage that was was beyond me. Suspiciously, I vowed not to take my sensors off her. Whatever game she was playing, I hoped my captain would stay in control and would realize what game Trance was trying to play. Luckily, my captain didn't disappoint me.

Beka slightly shook her head and decided to grab back her fragile control of the situation. After all, this was _her_ ship and this purple thing was sitting in _her_ closet. 

"I don't care what you think about dust balls. I asked what you were doing on my ship."

Trance smiled and cocked her head at Beka, not affected in the least by Beka using her captain voice. 

"I already told you. I was playing around with dust—"

Beka lost it. "Shut up about the stupid dust balls or I swear I'll paste your brains all over this closet! Now. You're going to tell me exactly why you were on my ship when my engineer came."

The purple enigma still smiled. "I don't know why you're asking me when you already know." When that didn't get any response from Beka, she grinned. "I was doing the same thing that your engineer was doing. I was stealing your ship."

Beka stared at her, slightly taken aback by having been given a straight answer after all the vague, childish responses. Apparently, Trance had decided that Beka wasn't as easily deceived as Myrond had been and she decided to try a different game. Straight forward honesty. It wasn't something my captain or crew were familiar with facing. 

But if Beka was surprised, she didn't show it. Instead, she took a slight step forward, her gun still pointed straight at Trance's head. 

"I don't know who the hell you are and I really don't care, but let me tell you, you made a big mistake when you choose my ship to steal. A big mistake. Because nobody—_nobody_—tries to lay a hand on my ship and gets away with that hand intact."

Trance stared at her and blinked. A look of slight confusion crossed her face. "But I wasn't doing anything wrong. After all, I didn't steal her. I just got in and I was looking out the window. I wasn't stealing your ship."

Harper raised his eyebrows and spoke for the first time. "If you weren't stealing the Maru then why the hell were you here?"

Trance smiled at him. "I already told you. I just got in and I was looking out the window. I wasn't stealing anything."

Beka glared at her. "Maybe you weren't supposed to steal it and you were just supposed to hold the Maru for somebody else."

Trance smiled. "Well, of course, silly. My boss was going to come and take this ship away, but not me. So you see, I wasn't stealing anything. My boss was going to, but I wasn't. I wasn't doing anything wrong."

Beka and Harper both looked confused and slightly bewildered by this logic, but Harper wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily.

"It don't matter if you were stealing anything or not, but you were still trespassing on private property."

Trance frowned. "But this ship isn't private property for a few more days. Until the end of this month, I thought she was FTA property."

Harper's jaw tightened and Beka's eyes narrowed. She was right. Technically, she hadn't done anything worse than they had done. The only difference was that I was already Beka's and she was simply stealing me back. But in the eyes of the law, I still wasn't private property and still belonged to the FTA, just like Trance had said. I was forced to admit that she really was good at her games. Whatever mysterious purposes they had hidden within them. 

Harper took another step towards her and looked like he was about to tighten his finger on the trigger, when Beka slightly shook her head and shoved Harper's gun gently down.

Harper tore his eyes off of Trance to look at Beka. "Boss, what—?!"

Beka shook her head again, staring at Trance with narrowed eyes. "Not yet, Harper. I want some more information first."

Scowling, Harper took a step back but didn't stop glaring at Trance, who grinned at him in response. When Harper just glared back again, Trance's smile wavered slightly and she looked down. She seemed upset that Harper wasn't being nice to her. Well, I wonder why he wasn't?

Beka took a step back and motioned with her gun for Trance to stand up.

"Get up and go into the kitchen."

Trance immediately sprang up and dusted the dirt and dust off her black catsuit. Smiling at Harper and Beka, she walked past them and started down the corridor, her tail flicking through the dust behind her. 

Immediately, she nearly walked right into Rev, who had hung back and was standing in the shadows, not sure how she would react to seeing a Magog. 

Beka spun around and opened her mouth to tell Trance that Rev was alright, but after a moment, she didn't have to bother.

Trance walked right up to Rev and smiled at him. "Hello, there. I don't know if you could hear everything that was going on in the closet, but if you missed it, my name's Trance Gemini."

Beka and Rev exchanged a quick glance. I knew what that glance meant. It meant that Rev should take Trance into the kitchen and keep her under close guard while her and Harper talked.

Rev nodded and bowed slightly. "Yes, I heard that, Ms.Gemini. My name is Reverend Behemial Far Traveller, but you may call me Rev."

Trance smiled. "That's a pretty name, but a bit unusual for a magog, don't you think?"

Rev chuckled. "Unusual for a magog, but not unusual for a Wayist."

Trance's eyes widened. "You're a Wayist?"

Rev nodded and together, they started walking towards the kitchen. As Trance continued asking excited, curious questions and played her little innocent games and Rev chuckled quietly and answered them for her, Beka and Harper were left to stare after them. 

Beka bit her lip and crossed her arms as Harper leaned against the open closet door. 

Beka glanced at him. "What do you think?"

Harper shrugged and stared after the retreating backs of Rev and Trance. "I don't know. She gives me a weird feeling."

Beka nodded. "Me too." My captain bit her lip again. "You think she's dangerous?"

"That's the thing. I think she can be, but she tries not to be. I mean, if you look at her, you automatically think she's some little kid, but the way she talks and the way she does weird things—"

"What weird things?"

"Like unlocking this door. I locked it from the outside and I know we don't have a lock on the inside and you can't unlock the damn thing from the inside,but she did."

Beka narrowed her eyes, trying to understand something I would later learn she was never meant to understand. 

"You know, everything about this is screaming at me to just dump her out the nearest airlock and forget about her."

Harper looked at her, wary all of a sudden. "I sense a 'but' coming here, boss."

Beka sighed and slumped against the wall opposite Harper. "The thing that keeps nagging me is that she didn't try to run. I mean, she unlocked the door—somehow—and she just sat here. If you or I would have been sitting in that closet, we would have gotten out, killed everyone on board and grabbed the ship, right?"

Harper nodded. "Right."

Beka sighed again. "But she didn't."

Harper frowned. "That doesn't mean anything, boss. Just because she didn't try to kill us doesn't mean she won't try. You just like her cause she's purple and she acts like a little kid, well, let me tell you, she ain't a little kid. She overrode the Maru's security system and unlocked a door where there wasn't a lock and she can fight really dirty when she wants to. Besides, she's just—"

He frowned for a minute and shifted around, searching for an appropriate word. "She's just weird."

Beka stared at Harper, her thoughts miles away. "Harper, you're just being paranoid right 

now—" 

Harper cursed and rolled his eyes. "Well, one of us has to be."

Beka ignored him. "You aren't thinking about the big picture, shorty. If this purple whatever can override security systems and unlock doors where there aren't any locks, imagine what else she can do. She could become a real asset."

Harper's eyes nearly fell out of his head. "You're gonna let her stay?" he squeaked, staring at Beka like she had gone insane. 

Beka frowned. "I didn't say that. All I'm saying is that we shouldn't be so quick about shooting her and throwing her out the airlock. She has her uses."

"Yeah, and she's got quirky other mysterious things too and she's got a weird purple agenda that we don't know anything about. How do we know she isn't planning to shoot all of us as soon as we join her and Rev in the kitchen? Huh? How do we know Rev isn't dead right now?"

Beka rolled her eyes. "Shorty, calm down. You're sinking into hysterical paranoia and we both know that that's unproductive and a waste of your good nerves. Try to shove those instincts aside and listen to me."

Harper muttered a curse and forced his trigger finger to relax. "I still hate everything about this situation, boss. She just ain't sit right with me. My sixth sense is going insane."

Beka bit her lip. "I know we don't and can't trust her, but something about her tells me there's a lot more to her than just childish curiousity and a purple tail."

"Yeah and that something more scares the hell out of me. Let's just throw her out."

Beka seemed to be debating something within herself. I knew what she was doing. She was fighting with her conscience. 

Finally, she sighed. "We can't just chuck her out into space, Harper. You know we can't."

Harper looked at her like she had grown whiskers. "And why the hell not?"

"Because technically, this situation isn't her fault. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and now she has to pay a heavy price for that. Besides, she hasn't tried to harm us, take over the ship or break out of the closet. Even if she is dangerous, she doesn't seem anxious about escaping or getting control of the Maru."

"That doesn't matter—"

"Yes, it does, Harper. Look, I'm not saying we should let her stay, but I'm saying that we should at least find some drift to drop her off on. We owe her that much."

"We don't owe her anything—"

Beka sighed and suddenly, she seemed to get angry. Whether she was angry at the whole situation or the fact that Harper refused to listen to reason wasn't clear. 

"You know, it's really funny. That's exactly what Bobby said to me when we were arguing over letting you stay. He said we didn't owe you anything and we should just throw you out. I said that I personally didn't give a damn about you, since I didn't know you, but I couldn't just throw you out."

"Yeah, since you were scared Keeler and a bunch of Dragans would get pissed off and come looking for you when you didn't bring Keeler's little loan toy back."

Beka stared at him, her eyes hard. "That's not the only reason I didn't throw you out and you know it. You had no where else to go and that's why I let you stay."

Harper looked like he was about to lash back at her with another retort, but suddenly, it seemed to hit him how very similar his and Trance's situation were. 

He shifted around. "But we don't know if she has some family somewhere or if she wants to go back to her boss or not. That was the deciding factor with me, wasn't it? I didn't have anyone else who wanted or needed me."

Beka smiled, glad that he was finally seeing her side in things. "Well, that just means we have to go and ask her."

As she strode off towards the kitchen, Harper bit his lip and mentally swore at those attentive hairs on the back of his neck to settle down. Cursing and muttering a "What the hell—" under his breath, he followed Beka into the kitchen. 

As soon as Rev saw them, he gave Trance a smile and told her to make herself comfortable while he went and talked to Beka and Harper. Pushing himself up, he swept out of the kitchen and moved so that his back was to the doorway. 

Harper leaned against the opposite wall, and was shifting around and trying to restrain himself from yanking his gun out and holding it ready, just in case Trance decided to make a run for it. Beka saw his twitchiness and reached over and gently squeezed his arm. After that, he calmed down a bit and focused his attention to what Rev was saying. 

"I've managed to wring some straight information out of a tangle of vague, evasive rubbish. At first, I believed she was lying to me, but after conversing a bit with her, I realized she just neatly avoids answering any personal questions but she never lies."

"Did you find out who she's working for?"

Rev nodded. "Apparently, he's some Chichian drug dealer who was looking for a new ship to haul his shipments in. I tried prying further in, but she avoided any questions about her bosses previous business deals, whether they involved her or not. However, I did find out that she avoids staying in any business arrangment for long. She's had a long string of employers and business associations and possesses quite an impressive amount of diverse knowledge from vast experiences."

"Like what?"

"In addition to being quite an accomplished thief, she also has a bit of a medical background and has worked as an environmental control operator aboard some of the ships she has worked on. In addition to that, she can also cook, sing, paint and knows how to speak 27 languages. She says she's quite a quick learner and some of the odder jobs she has taken have required her to learn a few skills she has never had a particular use for later on in life."

Quietly digesting this information, Beka and Harper both frowned, realizing there were a lot more advantages to keeping Trance than they had originally thought. 

Not willing to voice these thoughts yet, Beka crossed her arms. 

"Did she say anything about her current boss? Like when he expects her back and where she was supposed to meet him?"

He shook his head. "According to their business arrangement, her only job had been to unlock the Maru and get on board and wait for her boss to come and fly the Maru away. She has no idea why he never showed up but doesn't think he'll be looking for her or needing her. She says he just hired her for this one job anyway."

Nodding but still frowning, Beka exchanged a hard glance with Harper and then with Rev and then quietly motioned towards the kitchen and my crew filed in. 

While Rev and Beka sat down across from Trance, Harper nervously shuffled around behind them and continued glaring at Trance suspiciously, not able to trust her and not able to sooth the strange nagging of his sixth sense. 

If Trance noticed the tension and half hostile and half apprehensive energy radiating from the three people sitting across from her, she didn't show it. 

She swung her legs back and forth and her tail hung from the chair and lightly flicked through the dust under the table. Rev had made her a pitcher of hot chocolate and she was taking small sips from a glass, smiling contently at the chocolate taste. 

After Beka and Rev had sat down, she immediately smiled at Beka. "Would you like a sip? Or would you like me to get you a glass as well? There's lots left."

Beka stared at her, wavering on the edge of falling into the embrace she was being offered and fighting with all of her instincts which kept her back. 

"No, thanks." When Trance shrugged and continued drinking, Beka cleared her throat and leaned forward. Trance glanced at her and saw that what Beka was about to say was important. Setting her cup down, Trance stopped swinging her legs and looked at Beka, seeming serious for the first time since Harper had locked her up. 

"Rev told us what you told him."

Trance nodded, apparently knowing that there would be more questions coming. 

"I told Rev everything you need to know already, but quite frankly, I don't see any point to it. You're just going to kill me or throw me out, so it really doesn't matter."

If Beka was surprised by this declaration, she didn't show it. Just as I expected, this young enigma wasn't as naïve as we had all thought, or as she would have liked us to believe. 

Beka crossed her arms. "What if I told you we were thinking about letting you stay?"

Trance raised an eyebrow and shifted around. "Why would you do that? You don't know anything about me and you don't trust me."

Beka sighed, agreeing with her. "That's right. But trust can be earned over time and I have this unresistable quirk for picking up crew members I don't know anything about."

"Then how do you know they won't betray you?"

"I don't. But I've learned that people who are desperate enough and who have no where else to go won't bite the hand that's willing to feed them."

"Why take the chance?"

"Because I don't like throwing people out the door unless they've given me a good enough reason to. You haven't stabbed me in the back, you haven't sold me out and you haven't done anything to the rest of my crew. Besides, look at it from my point of view. I could use an extra crew member and you seem to have a vast array of skills that could become useful here. Throwing out someone who would be an asset would be stupid and short sighted of me. So why am I considering letting you stay? Because I have a good heart and a good conscience and I also know a good thing when I see it. Take your pick."

Trance bit her lip and her gaze momentarily glanced at Harper, who had stopped pacing and was leaning against the counter, staring at her with blank eyes. 

Shifting around, she looked at Beka. 

"So you're really willing to let me stay?"

"If you want to stay and if you really have no other place to go, then yes, you can stay."

For a moment, she mulled that over, biting her lip, then suddenly, an attack of shyness seemed to grasp hold of her. 

Shrinking in her chair, she grasped the edge of the table and stared at Beka. 

"Are you really sure? Cause a lot of people say they'll let me stay and then they say I scare them so they throw me back out."

Beka gave her a hard smile. "It takes a lot to scare me, Trance. Look at these two people here. A Magog and a human from earth. Two people who most of the universe spends their entire time avoiding because they're scared of them. If they couldn't scare me and make me throw them out, then trust me, it won't happen with you."

Suddenly, a brilliant smile shone on her face and she grinned at Beka with that childish happiness and innocence. 

"Thank you, captain. Thank you. Nobody's given me a home before. Jobs, yes. But never a home."

Beka smiled, her eyes still wary but willing to adapt and accept. "That's what the Maru's for, Trance. And for the record, I hate being called captain, miss captain or anything else fancy. Just call me Beka."


	52. Chapter 52

The Diaries Chapter 52 

Author's Note: Well, I sat down and re-read this entire story from start to finish. Took me three days and I noticed quite a few glaring continuity errors which I corrected and sincerely apologize for. It's bad enough noticing continuity errors on TV, never mind in one's own story. How embarrassing. Anyway, here is the much promised and badly delayed next chapter. Chapter 53 is already written but needs to be edited and will be up in two or three days, I promise. The final chapter is currently being worked on and I swear I'll have it all finished by the end of the week. 

Hope you enjoy and tell me whether you like or hate it. By the way, if anybody has any desperate wishes about anything they'd like to happen at the end or towards the end or have something that I've missed writing about and they'd like me to include it, feel free to tell me and I'll see what I can do. The ending isn't final yet and I have some ideas, but I'm still open for suggestions. 

Enjoy!! Tell me what you think!

Database Records Archive: 133 (10086)

Specific Time: Two days later

Now that I have explained how a certain purple enigma came to be a part of my strange ragtag crew and family, I am under orders from Andromeda to explain how this whole 'impounding' and FTA situation was brought under control and quietly swept under the rug.  

Apparently, my crew weren't the only ones who decided to 'borrow' their impounded ships during the chaos of evacuation. 

By the time the FTA officials had determined that it had all been a hoax and they had returned to the station, they discovered that 23 impounded vessels had been stolen back by their owners and were by now scattered all over the galaxy. The FTA had neither the time nor the patience to hunt down 23 rust buckets, but they were determined not to let us go unpunished. 

There was a message in a news reel I picked up a few days after we had fled Treban. Right away, I realized it was from the FTA and it had been transmitted on all frequencies, so the FTA didn't have to spend time looking for their rogue ships, but simply gave everyone a general warning. 

The message was short, concise and to the point. The people who were responsible for overriding their ships security systems and flying them off—namely, my engineer—would get grand theft spacecraft slapped onto their criminal records. Once more, it was Beka's turn to laugh at Harper. Also, we had twenty-four hours to come up with the money we owed the FTA in late fines, overdue fines and extra bits and pieces. If we didn't transmit the money in time, the FTA would send out gliders to find us and I would be impounded and sold and my crew would go to prison. 

Beka nearly fainted when she saw the amount of money we had to scratch up in twenty-four hours and Harper let out a stream of obscenity which made Trance cough up her orange juice and made Rev wince. 

"9000 thrones?! Where the hell are we going to find 9000 thrones?" Beka cried out, hurling the flexi across the kitchen and watching it hit the wall without a sound and flutter to the floor.  

Harper opened his mouth, but Beka whirled around and held up a hand. "Shorty, don't even suggest we make a run for it. The pigs would hunt us down and crack down on us. No.  We have to find this damn money somewhere. Somehow."

Rev sighed. "I'm afraid all we can do is pray for a miracle."

Beka rolled her eyes, her patience snapping. "Rev, if all you can do is sit there and preach at me, you can get out and do it somewhere else. Praying isn't going to get us any damn money!"

Rev's eyes clouded with hurt and he turned away from the table. Harper's eyes drifted off Beka and he stared at the floor.

"Boss, that wasn't very nice. It ain't Rev's fault we don't have the money." Harper quietly whispered. 

Beka looked at him and sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You're right. Look, Rev. I'm so sorry. "

Rev turned back and held up a hand, gently shaking his head. "There's no need to—"

"No, there is a need to apologize. I had no right to say that. I'm sorry."

Rev smiled and gave her a small bow, accepting the apology. 

Trance had been quietly sitting at the table, watching and listening but not interupting. She shifted around on her chair and bit her lip. She reminded me of Harper in his early days when he had been afraid to speak up. From the long years of having Harper fidgeting around and refusing to say what was on his mind, Beka immediately noticed Trance's shifting and gave her a smile. 

"Something on your mind, kiddo?"

Trance gave Beka a small smile and shifted around a bit more. Her purple, blond and orange curls bounced around amid the sparkling butterly clips she had pinning up the curly mass. She was wearing the same clothes she had worn over her black suit when she had crept up to me. She was still wearing her orange shirt but had cut her purple and green striped pants to pieces and had sewn the strips together into a skirt. Our purple enigma was not only resourceful but handy with a port-a-thread generator too.

She bit her lip and ignored Harper's suspicious glares in her direction.

"I might have a way for us to make that money and quickly too. There might be some small problems,but I think I could pull it off."

Beka raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to need a lot more details than that, Trance."

Trance gave my captain a grin. "I'm very good at playing cards and betting and things like that."

My captain's other eyebrow flew up. "Gambling?" she gave a little laugh. "Trance, the objective here is to make money, not to lose a whole bunch. Besides, all we have is about five thrones."

Trance nodded eagerly. "Five thrones are enough. I've done it before with only one guilder, and I made 5000 thrones out of it. All it takes is time."

Beka narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "Time? Trance, I don't gamble, but an old friend of mine used to. It requires a lot more than time. It requires luck."

Trance shrugged. "I tend to have a lot of luck."

Harper rolled his eyes. "Boss, you ain't seriously thinking about this, are you? Whatever miss purple here is planning, she's crazy. Nobody has the amount of time and luck it takes to turn 5 thrones into 9000 thrones in one night. Nobody. Besides, she'll probably just take the money and run."

Trance looked hurt. "Seamus, I wouldn't run. I like it here."

Harper glared at her. "I don't care whether you like it here or not and don't start spouting childish crap at me, and _don't_ call me Seamus."

Beka put a gentle hand on Harper's arm and gave him a look. Harper opened his mouth to snarl something at her as well, but when Beka raised an eyebrow, he swallowed it and just resumed glaring at Trance. 

Trance's eyes dropped to the table and she hugged herself, obviously upset that Harper had yelled at her. 

"I'm sorry, Harper." She whispered. 

Beka hadn't heard her and Harper just glared at her, still too suspicious and wary of her to allow himself to let his guard down. 

Beka put one hand on her hips and quietly exchanged a glance with Rev. Then she pursed her lips and thoughtfully stared back and forth between Trance and Harper. 

Finally, she straightened up.

"Alright, Trance. Come up to the cockpit with me and point to a nearby drift you'd like to play at and I'll bring you there."

Harper stared at Beka like she was nuts. "What?! Boss—"

Beka held up a hand. "Harper, calm down. I'm not going to let Trance go by herself and I'm not going to let this be our only way out of this. While Trance is off gambling, Rev and I will get in touch with some old hauler friends who owe us a few favors and see if we can scrape together the money that way."

Harper raised his eyebrows. "And who the hell is going to watch our little purple kid here?"

Beka smiled. "You, shorty."

Before Harper could launch into a protest, Beka put a gentle hand on Trance's shoulder and they walked to the cockpit, Trance already chattering away about the nearby drifts she had in mind. 

Later on, Rev pulled Beka aside and asked her if it was really such a good idea to let Trance go with Harper. Beka had smiled and said that Harper would make sure Trance didn't try to run, and besides, if Trance was being sincere, this would be a very good opportunity for her to try and gain Harper's trust. 

I couldn't help but agree with my captain. 

Database Records Archive: 134 (10086)

Specific Time: Six hours later

Although Harper hadn't stopped complaining to Beka and glaring at Trance, Beka refused to let him stay onboard and said that Trance would either be going with Harper or not at all. 

Finally, he glared at Trance, tugged his gun into his toolbelt and hissed at her to get over to the airlock. Without even looking at Beka or Rev, he stomped down the corridor, punched in the code and leapt down, yelling at Trance to hurry up or he was leaving without her. 

Trance bit her lip and hurried after him. Asides from a meek, sad smile, she didn't say anything and didn't snap back at Harper. If anything, she seemed sad that Harper was being so snarky with her. 

Beka had pulled Trance aside and explained to her that Harper really was a nice person but wasn't particularily good at trusting people he didn't know. Trance nodded and said she understood. Apparently, one of her former bosses used to hire Earthers and Kirians and other people who had fled from slave planets. He had said that they made the quickest thieves and never left a trace. Trance had worked with two Kirians during her time there and she said she was more than used to the suspicious snarls and glares. When Beka reassured her that Harper would eventually start letting her get a little closer, she just smiled, nodded and said she knew that. 

Database Records Archive: 135 (10086)

Specific Time: Five hours after Trance and Harper left

I saw them coming towards me long before they reached my airlock. Seeing how Harper was tripping over his own feet and was hanging off of Trance's shoulder, I quickly guessed that my engineer was way too drunk for his own good. 

Trance was holding his arm around her shoulder and was half dragging and half stumbling towards my airlock. 

When they reached it, Trance reached up and quickly typed in the code into the pad. I opened the airlock with an obedient whine and Trance politely called up for Rev or Beka to please come and help her. 

Beka reached the airlock first. She skid to a halt when she saw Harper and the condition he was in. She put her hands on her hips and glared in exasperation and amusement. 

"Way to go with the first impressions, shorty." She muttered, leaning down and grabbing Harper's arms and pulling him up. 

Harper gave her a dirty look, nearly falling over in the process. Beka caught him before he hit the ground and they slowly started stumbling towards the crew quarters. 

"Don't give a damn what the purple thinks about me." He muttered. 

Beka smirked. "Sure you don't."

Harper scowled and muttered something that Beka couldn't understand. They reached the crew quarters and Beka dragged him inside and dumped him on his bed. Despite his mumbled protests and his cursing, Beka pulled his boots, pants and jacket off and threw them into the open closet standing by the wall. 

When she was done, she quietly stared down at him. When Harper just lay there, his face buried in his pillow, Beka smiled and sat down beside him. Reaching over, she gently shook him. 

"Don't pass out on me yet, shorty. I want to know how it went. Do we have the money?"

For a minute, Harper didn't move. Only after Beka shook him one more time, this time with a little more impatience, did Harper groan and force himself to turn over onto his back. 

He stared up at the bunk above him with glazed eyes before blinking a few times. Beka waited until some form of sentience seeped back into Harper before she shook him again. 

"Alright, alright. Would you quit with the damn shaking? Yeah, we got the money."

Beka's breath caught in her throat. "How much money? All of it?"

Harper weakly chuckled. "All of it? Boss, we got twice as much."

Beka stared. "Twice?" she asked, thinking she had heard wrong. 

Harper nodded. "18,530 thrones to be exact. Man, I can't believe I remembered that amount with this much alcohol in my system. I think you're wrong boss. Alcohol doesn't screw up your judgement. It enhances it."

Beka scowled and waved that off. Her eyes were sparkling and she felt like grabbing Harper and whirling around the room with him. They had their money. They could pay off those damn FTA…people and then they could keep me. I'd never be separated from my crew ever again. 

Apparently, Harper had already celebrated their victory over the FTA—with a little too much exuberance if I might say so—and he was thinking about something else, staring intently at the metal wiring of the bunk above him. He frowned. 

Beka caught the frown and her good mood fizzled slightly. "What?"

He glanced at her and then shook his head. "Nothing. Just tired."

Beka rolled her eyes. "Bull. You're never tired. Tell me what's wrong."

He blinked and tried to force his alcohol hazed mind to cooperate a little better. "Nothing's wrong. Just surprised, that's all."

"Surprised about what?"

He was silent for a minute, before he looked at Beka and for a moment, his gaze was clear and there wasn't a speck of alcohol in it. 

"Trance. She surprised me."

Beka looked at him carefully, unsure of whether this was a good or a bad thing. She hoped that Trance hadn't done or said anything stupid that would force Harper further into his paranoid, snarky shell of mistrust. But seeing how he wasn't angry or defensive, she guessed that it hadn't been a bad thing. 

Patiently, she waited for him to say something more. Finally, he shifted around and glanced at her. 

"She could have left me, you know. After she hit 15,000, I was too drunk to watch her properly, never mind catch her if she decided to take off with the money. I mean, 15 kitch, boss! That's a hell of a lot of money. But she stayed. She never left me alone and towards the end, she even took some of my drinks away, saying I had had enough, even when I swore at her. And at the end, she brought us back here, me and the money."

He stared at Beka, clearly amazed. Beka smiled gently and reached out and smoothed a strand of his blond hair off his forehead. 

"You wouldn't have done that in the early days, would you? If I'd have sent you and Bobby out to gamble, you'd have taken the money, dumped Bobby and run off, wouldn't you?"

Harper nodded, not the least bit ashamed. "Course I would have, boss. I didn't trust you and I really didn't trust Mister Bobby. Besides, back then, I would have never shared that much money with anybody else."

Beka grinned down at him. "So, does this mean Trance is no longer on your list of potential threats?"

Harper smiled weakly. "I wouldn't go that far, but I think she's okay. I don't think she'll run and I don't think she'll do anything to hurt you and Rev. That's good enough for me."

Beka smiled. "Me too, shorty. Me too."

Database Records Archive: 136 (10086)

Looking over the last few months worth of records which remain between the last record and the day on which we pulled her Highness out of a blackhole, I find I've reached some sort of an ending. After all, the entire purpose behind this whole slogging through a shaky and disorganized memory databank had been to show Andromeda how my engineer had come to be a part of my crew and how he had slowly learned to adjust to living a life he never thought he'd get a glimpse of. 

Sure, there are a few more interesting records left of Trance and Harper building their tight, trusting friendship. Beka and Rev accepted and trusted Trance right from the start, especially after that night when she had been entrusted with my future and Harper's life and she had come back with both intact. They both found her childish enthusiasm and love for everything around her strangely soothing and refreshing after years of being faced with nothing but Harper's cynicism and pessimism. They quickly learned about her strange little quirks—such as never hurting a living being if she could help it and never answering any questions about her childhood or species—and willingly accepted them just as they had accepted all of Harper's strange little quirks. Beka used to laugh whenever Trance bit her lip and worried about being 'difficult'. Beka said Trance didn't know the meaning of the word, and besides, Beka had never minded putting up her with crew's little weird habits and accepted them. After all, Beka had been the one to pluck three strange misfits out of the swirling chaos which was the universe and let them become a part of her crew and life. If she had to put up with some strange things from time to time, so be it.  

Not surprisingly, it took Harper the longest to accept our newest crewmember. He had gotten so used to just living with only Beka, Rev and me over the years, that Trance's sudden intrusion into his safe haven was an unacceptable threat to him. It took quite a while until Harper accepted the fact that Trance meant him and his safe haven no harm. 

He slowly dropped the open hostility he held towards her. He realized that Trance was a quiet, gentle and very nice person and respected his privacy and personal space. She never asked him any personal, prying questions and whenever he was in a snarky, defensive mood, she quickly backed away and left him alone. The few times that he was quiet and hurt because of bad memories or something bad having happened, she always asked if he wanted her to leave him alone. At first, Harper had always said yes and had waited until Beka had come along, but later on, Harper let Trance stay. She never asked any questions and never expected him to tell her anything like he would to Beka, but instead, she just sat there and hugged him, letting him know without words that she was there for him, even if he didn't trust her enough to let her in. 

He never trusted her as much as he trusted Beka with certain things. He never told her anything about his past, except in fits of anger, and Trance never expected him to. Instead, she slowly gained his trust in other ways. She never pushed him or was mean or rude to him and slowly, Harper started building a friendship with her. They'd run around on drifts together, sit in engineering and talk about things while Harper fixed things and Trance swung around on the pipes on my ceiling, and sometimes, when they couldn't sleep, Trance and him would sit in the kitchen and eat junk food into the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes, there were problems. Whenever Harper was in a bad mood, he'd lash out at whoever was nearest, and Trance was the easiest target since she never yelled back like Beka did or ignore him like Rev did when he got into those bad moods. Sometimes, they'd get into horrible misunderstandings when the eternal culture clash between earther and spacer life threatened to tear apart their fragile friendship, but Beka always intervened. She'd calmly explain to Trance why Harper was upset, and then she'd go to Harper and tell him to please go and apologize to Trance. Of course, he'd always be snarky and full of attitude at first, but after Beka raised her eyebrows and refused to budge, he always relented and went to find Trance. Trance—unsurprisingly—never held a grudge against her new best friend and always forgave him right away. In this way, my little family became complete. Harper had found a mother in Beka and a father in Rev, and he had found a sister and best friend in Trance. He trusted them each differently and acted differently with each other them, but all people act differently with different members of their family. 

Database Records Archive: 137 (10088)

Well, there you have it, Andromeda. The end. I've run out of memory records and have searched through every dusty corner of my database's memory archives for any snatches of other information you might need. I am pleased to say that I'm finished. 

Andromeda pauses for a minute, letting her processors slowly filter through the many gigaquads of information I had been steadily feeding her over the past few hours. Suddenly, her environmental systems squeak while an excited glow runs through her AP pipes. She asks me if I'd like to see some of her memory records concerning my—pardon me, _our_—engineer's first few days and nights aboard her. 

My sensors sharpen with interest. Although my engineer still spends a lot of time on me, he has settled into his new life on the Andromeda a lot faster than I thought he would. I have always been suspicious about that—specifically, how he dealt with living on a large, luxurious starship, not to mention living with a Nietzschean. I have to admit I'm very curious. So I tell Andromeda I'd love to see a few records. She smiles and says it's no problem. After all, I have just forced my tired, old subroutines to dig through a huge amount of datastreams and records in order to answer her deceptively simple question of how a mudfoot from earth had come to be a part of my crew. 

So, in all fairness and in order to satisfy my curiousity, Andromeda will now show me a few of her own memory records.


	53. Chapter 53

The Diaries Chapter 53 

Author's Ramble: Thank you so much for all the reviews! I'm thrilled and amazed to see you guys still like this story. That means a lot to me. Well, I'm finally done. *_Raven sighs, cries and smiles at the same time_* I wrote the last sentence yesterday and this huge meander finally ended at exactly 400 pages. I have one more chapter after this and the epilogue to post, but I'm afraid those will have to wait until July 1 since I'm leaving tomorrow and won't have time to post anything else and my sister hasn't betad the epilogue yet anyway. 

Anyway, enjoy the next chapter and as usual, I'd love to hear what you think!

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 1 (10088 AFC)

I patiently wait while the Maru sets up an interface with my extensive memory banks. Maru, if you will notice, my memory database is clean, organized and there is not a speck of cyber dust in sight. She's rolling her sensors at me and is grumbling that I'm being a snob. I snort. Hardly. I'm just pointing out that being organized is very much more efficient in the long run. Besides, unlike the Maru, I'm over 300 years old. Granted, I don't have memory files for all those years, but still, I have been in service much longer than that rust bucket—pardon me, than the Maru has. That prompts her to start with her 'fossil' jokes again. I ignore her. I'm not a fossil. I prefer to think of myself as a relic. A very well preserved relic. 

She tells me I'm meandering and rambling on. I snort again. High Guard ships don't ramble and meander on and on about nothing like certain cargo haulers do. High Guard ships are just polite and prefer to wait until a strong interface has been established before throwing tons of gigaquads of information into smaller, rustier ships' matrices. No, I'm not being condescending and snobby, Maru. I'm being polite. Yes, I am. Don't grumble about AI's being snobs. Yes, I know you're what they call impressive. What—do you want to see these records or don't you? I don't have all day. I have numerous diagnostics to run. Of course I can multitask, what do you think I've been doing this entire time? But yes, even ships 'of the line' have their limits. Surprised? Good. Now be quiet and pay attention.

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 2 (9776 CY)

Specific Time: 1900 hours

Do you know what it's like to be told that the sun orbits around planets? I do. Well, of course I don't mean that suns orbit around planets, silly. What I mean is — do you know what it's like to have your entire universe suddenly change and nothing is as it should be anymore? I do. You couldn't possibly appreciate or understand this. So I'll tell you. Put yourself into my database for a moment, Maru. Imagine that one minute, my well trained, efficient and professional High Guard crew was running battle drills, maintaining my systems and making sure I was running as efficiently as possible. I was busy running diagnostics, monitoring my sensor drones as they zipped through space around me, receiving orders from the Vedran High Council and transmitting them to Dylan's office and updating Gaheris Rhade—my captain's first officer, best friend and soon to be best man—about the status of my weapons systems. My captain was in the recreation hall, playing what he calls basketball. A crewman in his quarters asks for his lights dimmed and the temperature to be raised by two degrees. I immediately obey. Just before he falls into bed, my holographic representation materializes beside his bed and I tell him that I will wake him for his duty shift in three hours and that I wish him a good few hours of rest. At the same time, an officer running down the corridor trips. I run a scan and determine he has sprained his right ankle. He calls for assistance, but I'm already one step ahead of him. My hologram materializes in sickbay and I tell the doctor and his staff about the accident and tell them where the officer is. When some medical assistants are detached, I create another hologram where the officer is lying and tell him to stay calm and that help is on the way. All in all, it's a perfectly good day.

Then Rhade orders another battle drill and I obediently turn on the klaxon and watch as my crew scatters, madly running to their posts. Technically, they could take all day about meandering to their stations and it wouldn't matter. I can control all of their stations simultaneously and even if it's a station which requires actual buttons to be pushed, I can deploy one of my 30 androids to do it. So I'm not too worried when Lieutenant Thompson skids to his defense station a little late and forgets to activate his secondary battery. I quietly turn it on for him, hoping that Rhade or Dylan wouldn't notice. The poor man has been trying so hard. I don't expect my crew to be perfect. I expect them to learn from their mistakes, but I don't expect or need for them to be perfect. Speaking of perfection, I quietly listen to Rhade rant and yell in true Nietzschean fashion about the elapsed 3 minutes and 27 seconds being too slow. Well, speaking from High Guard standards, yes, that was slow, but it wasn't bad. When we ran this drill a week ago, the time had been four minutes. Joking about my captain's upcoming wedding, the two best friends stride down the corridor. Dylan pauses and suddenly asks me if anybody forgot to turn something on or activate something. I reluctantly confess Thompson's oversight. Rhade glares and Dylan grimaces. After Thompson gets an earful of High Guard discipline and a healthy dose of Nietzschean glaring, my captain and first officer continue on their way, discussing Nietzschean pessimism and my captain's procreation status. If nobody knew my first officer was a Nietzschean, these kinds of conversations would blaringly announce it. 

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 3 (10088 AFC)

You see, Maru, this was the universe I come from. I was commissioned by an Empress and served a grand, glorious empire where order, law and peace had reigned for more than a thousand years. Asides from occasional brutal Magog attacks, the Commonwealth was a peaceful, quiet, cooperative empire in which the strong helped the weak and the universe was a friendly place to be. After the treaty with the Magog, I honestly didn't think things could be any better. 

Then my entire existence suddenly changed. The universe I had known was brutally torn to shreds and rearranged into the chaotic mess in which you, my dear Eureka Maru, have been built and have learned how to survive. After waking up from a 300 year slumber, I discovered my glorious, secure, orderly Commonwealth gone. The peace and order I had felt were suddenly gone, replaced by chaos, madness and ugliness. The strong now preyed on the weak. Alliances were far and few between and most people only fought for themselves. Laws no longer existed. Instead of working together, species had separated, fighting each other and others, gathering as much power and wealth that they could. 

So, yes, I was shocked. I found myself feeling the same way my captain felt when we woke up and realized our universe was gone. I had no idea what this new universe was like and honestly, I didn't want to find out. Then, as if trying to figure out the muddled mess around me wasn't enough—I mean, even the stars and planets around me had changed!—we got boarded and for the second time in what seemed like only moments, everything changed. 

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 4 (10086 AFC)

Specific Time: 1736 hours, Observation Lounge

More Specific Time: While Dylan is trying to coax this new group of rebels into staying onboard

                                   with him.

To be honest, I didn't like your little crew of misfits at first, Maru. Of course I didn't. They were intruders and I didn't like them or trust them. I admit, I was in a bad mood. Of course I was. My entire existence had been brutally torn away from me and I was left adrift, as if somebody had flung me into slipstream without a pilot. Then to top it all off, a group of diverse cargo haulers and salvagers, along with their sleazy Nightsider employer and his group of killer mercenaries all boarded me and wracked havoc in my polished corridors. 

By the time the entire mess was over and I had—reluctantly—helped Dylan and Captain Valentine's crew retrieve you, my dear Maru, Dylan proposes that Beka's little crew of misfits and that Nietzschean mercenary all stay onboard and become his crew. I thought I'd short out my processors when I heard. Well, yes, obviously I needed a crew. But I couldn't believe that Dylan would allow these people to stay. I had carefully monitored them while they had rampaged through me and had come to the conclusion that I didn't like or trust any of them. 

First, there was the Magog. I couldn't help but agree with Dylan's comment when he muttered and asked me if they were crazy for working with a Magog. Magog are meant to be kept away from, not worked with. They are brutal, unreasonable savages. However, as I monitored this particular Magog, I noticed some strange things about him. First of all, I had never seen a Magog wearing clothes before. Or speak common. I found myself having the same reaction which Harper had when he had crouched in his quarters on the Maru, frowning and trying to figure out what was wrong with this Magog. After awhile, I came to the same conclusion as Harper had. There was nothing wrong with him. From the way he spoke, he seemed a well educated, soft spoken and gentle person, not at all like the savage, brutal murderer I had assumed him to be. However, I wasn't stupid. I noticed how he defended that little human whenever the Nietzschean or the Nightsider glared at him and I knew that the Magog might be a Reverend, but he was still very much a Magog. It wasn't until later that I learned he was a Wayist and only harmed in self defense and even refused to fire my weapons. I learned to like and trust the Reverend, in the same way that the rest of the crew did. I liked his quiet, soft spoken ways and how they balanced out the hot headed, fiery tempers of my captain, Beka and Tyr. He was always an oasis of calmness amid a desert of chaos. I came to respect and like him for it. 

Then there was the purple girl. This one I knew I couldn't trust. I couldn't even figure out what species she was. And then there was the little matter of her coming back from the dead. That little human had shrugged that off and had dismissed it as being completely in character. That intrigued me and I became determined to figure out what this purple enigma was. But, just like the Maru and the rest of the crew, I quickly gave up on that. I slowly determined that I might not be able to figure out what her agenda was and what species she was, but I decided it didn't really matter. She was the only one of the crew who seemed a remnant of peaceful, better times. She was so childishly innocent, loved plants and animals and never judged people. She liked everyone, no matter who they were and what they had done. I immediately liked her. I knew there was something beneath that childish enthusiasm and carefree love, but honestly, I didn't want to find out what it was. I don't think anybody else wants to find out either. We all learned to love Trance for who she is.

Then there was the Nietzschean. Here was where the problems started. Having just been betrayed by my loyal, trusted Nietzschean first officer, I resented having another Nietzschean onboard. Granted, he was different from other Nietzscheans, but not in the way that Rev was different from other Magog. Rev had pushed his true nature aside by a sheer force of will and spent his days trying to keep it away from himself. Tyr on the other hand had never abandoned his true nature. He had been forced away from some essential Nietzschean aspects of life, such as a pride and a mate, but he spent his days trying to reclaim them and his true nature, not get away from it. This was where the problems started. There is nothing worse than having a Nietzschean without a pride running around the universe, convinced that killing anything in his path would earn him the right to be a part of another pride. Actually, there is is something worse than that. Having one of these Nietzscheans living onboard you. At first, I didn't trust or like Tyr. He was ruthless, selfish, arrogant, smart and dangerous. However, I slowly determined that there was more to my resident Nietzschean than a bad temper, killer instinct and selfish motivations. He had a vulnerable side too. I didn't learn this at first, but after digging around and eavesdropping on conversations—or, to borrow a dear friend's phrase—monitoring for security purposes, I learned that Tyr had lost his pride when he was a teenager and he had been one of the few who had survived. When he and the rest of the survivors tried to flee, the Drago-Katzov fighters opened fire on them and shot them all done, with the exception of one. After stumbling throught the universe, lost and afraid, Tyr was caught by slavers and was a slave in a mine somewhere for years until he managed to escape. That was when he decided to take up the worthwhile lifestyle of a mercenary, determined to find a way to prove his worth and fit back into a life he had been thrown out of. In many ways, his and Harper's stories have some parallels. Both of them had lost the only forms of lives they had ever known and had been thrust into a situation they felt completely lost and out of place in, Tyr having been abandoned in the universe and Harper having been put onto a spacer cargo hauler. However, while both of them had managed to learn how to fit in in their new lives, Tyr spent his days living to return to his old life, while Harper spends his days trying to stay as far from his old life as possible. 

But I didn't know this back then. All I knew was that I didn't trust or like this mercenary Nietzschean. 

Apparently, I wasn't the only one. 

I realized it was something Captain Beka Valentine and I had in common the instant Tyr stepped onboard with that horrifyingly gaudy weapon of his and declared in that Nietzschean way of his that he'd take it over from here. 

I scanned the reactions of my intruders and was surprised at the results. The purple girl simply stared at him, the Magog snarled and didn't like this newest intruder. The blond haired captain narrowed her eyes as soon as she saw the bone blades and she clenched her jaw. It was obvious she didn't like Nietzscheans. But it was the little human—the one with the rash—whose reaction I noticed the most. Perhaps it was because there wasn't a trace of anything on his face to indicate whether he was relieved, angry or scared at facing a Nietzschean. It was so eerie seeing that blank face that I decided to run a discreet scan on him. When the results came back and told me his heart rate had increased dramatically and he was clenching his jaw so hard I was afraid he'd snap a few teeth off, I realized he was terrified. He had instinctively backed up a step when he saw the bone blades. I noticed the blond captain shot him a look and then stepped over slightly so she was covering the Nietzschean's view of the little blond engineer.

That was when I realized two important things about these two blond humans. Captain Valentine was fiercely protective over her crew, but most of all, over her engineer, and her engineer had an incessant fear of Nietzscheans. 

It wasn't until later on that I learned more about this new crew of mine. I learned that Captain Beka Valentine was a hard, tough captain who had been screwed over by the universe too many times to trust it, but still had a kind heart within an iron soul. I realized her crew respected her and were fiercely loyal to her, something that I saw quite quickly when they let her decide whether to stay or not. She was smart, tough and was an excellent pilot, but more importantly, she guarded and protected her crew as fiercely as a mother protected her children. Beka Valentine was the first one of my new crew who earned my respect, if not my trust. It took a while until Beka realized that staying onboard me was in her crew's best interest, which immediately made it the best decision for her too. But slowly, she learned to trust me and I learned to trust her. We had respected each other for far longer, but trust came later. 

Lastly came the person who I would have never imaged I would stumble across, never mind befriend and form a tight, trusting friendship with. At a first glance, I didn't like Seamus Harper. Maru sniggers, not surprised in the least. He was a scrawny, weak mudfoot who never seemed to shut up and had no qualms about murdering somebody who was in his way, as he had clearly demonstrated when he proposed blowing up all of Gerentex's mercenaries after the slimy Nightsider had—temporarily—killed Trance. I didn't like him because I couldn't trust him. I didn't trust somebody who never thought twice about killing someone, never showed any expressions on his face and someone who violates my systems by jacking in without permission. Well, I got my revenge for that last one. I had waited quietly, watching him stumbling around my mind with no idea where to go, when I decided to make my presence known and send him on a sparkling exit—if you understand me. 

It wasn't until Beka sat down in her quarters one night and told me she had to discuss something serious with me that I even considered there might be more behind Harper than met the eye. 

Beka quietly told me he was an earther and she was his legal leaser. She told me about his compromised, almost non-existent immune system, the vitamin and IB shots he got everyday, the required 48 cleaning period for his port, his allergy to orange juice and fever reducants, his refusal to drink water and other such odds and ends. She also asked me to run a scan on Harper every week, keeping a close eye on his immune system, weight and organ functions. 

In this way, Beka handed me some of the responsibility she had been shouldering for more than three years. It wasn't easy for her. She was so used to taking care of Harper that she didn't trust me to do it. Truth be told, I wasn't completely comfortable with it either. At first, Harper resented having me materialize by his bedside every morning and telling him to eat more, drink less and go up to sickbay and get his vitamin shots. He'd either get defensive and yell at me, or he'd grin and wave it off, saying he was fine. I had no idea how to handle either scenario. I was used to giving crewmembers orders and having them obeyed. I wasn't used to them turning into hissing, snarling alley cats who called me things I shudder to remember. Then I'd always call Beka who would come in and yell some sense into Harper before hugging him and telling him that I was just trying to take care of him like she had been doing. He'd retort that he didn't trust me. Beka said he didn't have to. He just had to listen to me and then he'll see that I meant him no harm. Knowing he didn't trust me, I decided to change tactics. Giving him orders and threatening to throw him in the brig only made him more defensive so I backed off and decided a different approach. I'd tell him what could happen to him if he didn't take his shots or clean his port and tell him I was worried about him and I couldn't lose my only engineer. Slowly, Harper started to trust me. I have to admit, he wasn't the only problem in our strange friendship. I didn't trust him either. The thought of him digging through my systems and jacking in and messing around in my mind terrified me. But after awhile, I realized that my engineer was brilliant and really did know what he was doing, so I gradually let my guard down and let him rummage through my systems, swing and flip through my conduits and up and down my ladders and I let him mess around in my mind. I cleared some space in there for him and he stores all kinds of things in there that Beka and Dylan know nothing about and would kill him for, but that's our secret. Just like it's our secret when Harper sometimes gets scared to sleep in his room at night and sleeps in one of my conduits. I always let him fall asleep before I call Beka and she'll come running down the hall to get him. I have to admit, I've never felt as close to any organic being as I have to Harper. At first, Dylan was the person closest to me, but he was my captain. Harper was much more than my engineer. He was my friend. He fixed me and soothed me when I was worried, and I in turn took care of him and soothed him when he got scared or upset over something. He even made me an android. Although she's a nuisance at times, I have to admit that it's been remarkable, exploring sentience and humanity in such a way. It's something I will always thank my little mudfoot engineer for. 

It took a long time, but we finally learned to trust each other and take care of each other. I consider Harper much more than my engineer. He's become a part of my family, just like Beka and the others have. I trust him the most out of everyone and I would go out of my way to protect him, no matter the costs. I know he'd do the same. 

Now, the Maru's getting impatient and wants to see what Harper's first night onboard were like. After all, I wasn't the only one who had to get used to our resident mudfoot. And I wasn't the only one our resident mudfoot had to get used to.

Our resident Nietzschean was. And that was a problem. 

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 5 (10086 AFC)

Specific Time: 2100 hours, Harper's new quarters

More Specific Time: A few hours after Dylan gave his speech

I carefully watched as the scrawny mudfoot stared around himself, standing in the doorway of one of my crewquarters, not daring to step inside. 

He stared at the carpet, the bed, the ajoining door to the bathroom, the computer interface, the couch, everything. His eyes were wide and he couldn't seem to close his mouth. 

I spied Captain Valentine coming up behind him almost the same instant that he smelled her. I couldn't help but stare. I've never seen somebody sniff the air and then smile with a "Hey, boss" and know who was coming up behind him without turning around. It's another one of those earther things that Beka has become completely used to and even Dylan just waves off as normal.

She crossed her arms and stopped in the corridor. "You going to stand there all night or go in?"

He smiled, still staring around. "I don't know, boss. Don't seem right. It's so clean and prissy in there."

Prissy? Did he just call me prissy? I swallow the insult. 

Beka smiled. "In that case, you better get in there and mess it up until you're comfortable. Just don't wreck anything. The ship might get mad."

Damn straight I would. 

Harper glanced over his shoulder, frowning worriedly. "Boss, I can't mess that up. It even smells clean in there."

Beka raised an eyebrow and after a moment, she lunged at him and collided with him and together, they flew through the air and landed in the 'prissy' quarters on the floor in a sprawl of arms and legs and laughter. 

Harper wearily rubbing his head and was glaring at her while laughing. "What the hell was that, boss?"

Beka laughed. "Well, you were taking too long." When he just scowled at her, she rolled off him and leaned down and hauled him up. 

Together, they stood there for a moment, staring around, before they grinned at each other, seemed to agree on something and then launched themselves onto the clean, crisply sheeted bed in their dirty clothes and dusty boots. 

They stretched out and oohed and aahed over the pillows and the many layers of blankets for a while. 

Finally, Beka rolled onto her side, propped her head up and gave Harper a long look. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, smiling in contentment. When he noticed her stare, he frowned. 

"What?"

"Are you okay with this, shorty?"

He snorted. "Boss, have you looked around here? I mean, these beds are heaven and the food—"

"I didn't mean the bed or the food, Harper. I meant the Nietzschean."

Instantly, he stiffened, the smile vanished and his face hardened. "What about him?" he asked, his voice completely flat. 

Beka sighed. "Seamus, don't play stupid with me. This is serious. Very serious. You haven't been in the same room as a Nietzschean since the day Bobby and I got you off earth, and now, you might have to live with one. That's a very serious issue, Seamus."

He glared at her, immediately defensive. "What the hell do you want me to do?"

"I want you to tell me what you want. If you're scared of the guy and thinks he'll lay a hand on you and cause trouble, you tell me, and we leave. Tonight. Right now."

He stared at her. "You serious? What about the deal you made with Hunt?"

"Screw that deal. I made a much more important deal years ago when I agreed to put up with you, shorty. Since that day, you've always come first and you always will. That was the deal where Rev was concerned and that's the deal now. You want us to go, we'll go. You want to tough it out, we'll stay. Your choice."

Knowing she was serious and that it was useless to say that it wasn't really his choice, his anger faded and he tore his gaze off her and stared up at the ceiling, his face unreadable. 

"He scares the hell out of me." He whispered.

Beka nodded. "I thought so." She bit her lip for a moment, before rolling over and getting off the bed. "Come on. We'll find Rev and Trance and we'll be gone in ten minutes."

Nodding, Harper slowly sat up and was about to swing his legs off the bed, when suddenly, he stopped.

Beka frowned at him. "Let's go, shorty. I want to get out of this nothing system as quickly as possible. There isn't anything here."

Harper looked at her. "Boss, there ain't anything anywhere out there for us."

Beka stopped and stared. "Shorty, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He bit his lip, his gaze drifting onto my clean carpet. "It means that we have a chance to have decent lives here and I'm not willing to throw that out just because I'm scared. It's not fair."

"Harper—" 

"No, boss. Not this time. You've given up everything over the years for me. Bobby, certain runs, you nearly gave up Rev for me too, but I'm not going to make you give this up, boss. Not this. You deserve this. I know what you're going to say. You're going to say you don't mind giving me what I want because nobody else will, but this is what I want, boss."

She crossed her arms, sceptical. "You want to live with a Nietzschean?"

"No. I want to make you happy and give you something back for all these years of you constantly giving me something. And this is it."

When she raised her eyebrows, he sighed and looked at her imploringly. "Please, boss. Let me do this. I won't and can't make you give this up for me. I know it'll be tough and there's a part of me that just wants to run, but hey, that's what I wanted to do with Rev and now Rev and I are okay, hell, we're even family. I'm thinking if I got past that, I can get past this."

Beka gave him a hard look. "A Nietzschean is a lot different than a Magog, Seamus. Especially in this circumstance because Rev isn't like any other Magog, and this Uber is exactly like all the other Ubers you've known."

He shrugged. "Maybe he isn't. After all, I've never known any Uber who's a mercenary and who doesn't have  a pride. Maybe he's different too." From the way his voice faded off, I knew he didn't completely believe his own words, and I could see Beka didn't believe him either. 

"Harper, you don't have to do this."

"I want to do this, boss. Please. Let me do this for you. You've given me everything over these years and you've remade your entire life for me. Let me do this one thing for you."

She stared at him. "You know this won't be fixed in a day."

Harper shrugged. "You and me weren't fixed in a day and neither were me and Rev or me and Trance. I'm not saying I'm ever going to be friends with him and I'm not saying I'm ever going to be in the same room as him, but I'm saying that I'm willing to live on the same ship as him, as long as he doesn't touch me or hurt me."

She stared at him for a long moment. He stared back, his gaze not wavering. Finally convinced that he was serious, Beka nodded. "Alright. Fine. We'll try this. But if he lays a finger on you, Seamus, I'll kill him and we're leaving. Understood?"

Harper gave her a cold smile. "Don't you worry, boss. He lays a finger on me, I'll be the first to kill him. You won't get a chance. You're talking to an earther here, remember?"

She smiled and then reached over and gently wapped him over the head. "Alright. Now get into bed. I have some business to take care of."

He grinned and pulled off his boots, shirt and pants and cheerfully threw them around the room. Then he snuggled down beneath the covers and Beka yanked them tightly around him before ruffling his hair and ducking out of reach as he scowled and reached out to swipe her. 

She laughed and stepped towards the door. "I'll stop by and stick my head in on my way to bed, alright?" Then she frowned and suddenly seemed to realize something. "Seamus, do you want me to lock the door?"

Harper immediately nodded. Sitting up, he looked up at my ceiling. "Uhm, Andromeda? If I could have a second of your time, please?"

Well, I have to admit, I've never been addressed so politely before. I materialized beside him and smiled. He nearly jumped out of bed and Beka yanked out her gun. After they both calmed down and I had explained that I was simply the holographic projection of the AI, they both relaxed slightly. 

Harper cleared his throat. "Uhm, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask a favor."

My hologram raised an eyebrow and I waited. 

He seemed nervous and glanced at Beka who winked and grinned at him. Getting a little bolder, he quietly asked if I could seal his door shut and not let anybody in unless they were Rev, Trance or Beka. I told him that wouldn't be a problem. He nodded and then glanced around his room, spying the air vent. He asked if I could see what was in the air vent and I said I could. Then he asked that if anybody came along that air vent at any time, that I please tell him immediately. I agreed and told him to relax and that I could see everything that went on in my corridors, rooms and hidden corners. 

Harper smiled slightly and wryly said that he didn't relax a lot, to which Beka laughed.

When my hologram blinked out of existence, Beka glanced at Harper, who had snuggled down again. He still looked nervous. 

"Shorty, I'll go down and get you your scanner, alright?"

I wanted to tell her that this wouldn't be necessary, but from the relief which flickered across Harper's face, I didn't say anything. He didn't trust me yet and I didn't expect him to. 

Then Beka smiled when she still saw him apprehensively staring into every hidden corner. 

"If you want, I'll come back when I'm done and I'll sleep here tonight, alright? I don't like the size of this ship either. It gives me the creeps too."

He smiled faintly. "Not Earther creeps though."

She smiled. "No. Spacer creeps. They're nearly as bad."

Harper laughed at that and then nodded. He had sat up again and pulled his knees up to his chest. Both of them knew he wasn't going to sleep before she came back anyway, so there wasn't any need for him to pretend. 

Giving him a gentle smile, she turned around and stepped through the door. After it shut behind her, both her and Harper asked me at the exact same time to keep it locked unless she, Rev or Trance approached it. I told both of them I would. 

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 6 (10086 AFC)

Specific Time: 2147 hours, Tyr's new quarters

Beka paused before the closed door. Reaching down she checked to make sure her gun was in its holster. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulder, narrowed her eyes and pressed the button beside the door. 

Inside, Tyr glanced up from where he was sitting in a chair. He had just returned from prowling around me, sniffing in hidden corners and sticking his Nietzschean nose into every room where it had no business to be. 

He quietly asked me who it was. I told him it was Captain Valentine. He asked if she was armed and I told him she was. 

Standing up, he reached over and pulled a small gun out of the black bag he had thrown onto the bed. Holding it across his lap, he told me to open the door. 

Beka stood before the open door and glared at the Nietzschean who smugly sat in the chair, one ankle crossed over his knee and looked utterly bored. 

"Captain Valentine. Come on in."

She didn't smile and didn't thank him as she stepped through the door. She didn't tear her glaring, cold gaze off his cool, indifferent one, even though her jaw clenched slightly when the door swished shut behind her. I could have kept it open for her, but I had a sneaking suspicion she didn't want anybody overhearing their conversation. 

She got right to the point. Maru sniggers proudly. Of course she did. She's Beka Valentine after all. 

She stuck her chin out and crossed her arms, glaring down at the Nietzschean, who hadn't bothered to stand up or move at all, except for following her path across his room with a casual air of indifference. She couldn't help but remember how Harper's owner had looked when he was talking to her. He had that same casual air of indifference around him. Remembering that beast and what he and all other Ubers on earth had done to Harper filled her with rage and she had to remind herself that this wasn't one of those Nietzscheans. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't easy.

"I'll make this quick. I presume you've seen all of my crew?"

"If you're referring to that sorry bunch of pathetic misfits made up of the purple thing, the Magog and the mudfoot, then yes, I have."

Her eyes flashed, but she ignored the insult. "Trance won't give you any problems. She won't bother you if you don't want to be bothered. Same with Rev—"

Tyr held up a finger. "If the Magog comes within a two meter radius of me, I will kill it, skin it and sell its fur to the highest bidder, you can count on that."

Her jaw clenched. "Rev's a Wayist and hasn't harmed a living being except for in self defense for years. He's renounced the ways of his people."

Tyr laughed, that infuriating, smug laugh that makes me want to toss him out of airlock. 

"He's a Magog and you, my poor woman, are a lunatic for allowing him to live on your ship—"

"I'm not here to discuss Rev's way of life with you. I trust him and that's all that matters. I don't give a damn what you think of him or me, but I assure you, if you leave Rev alone, he won't even speak to you."

"If it's not the Magog you're here about, what do you want?"

She glared down at him. "I'm here because of Harper."

Tyr laughed again, seeming amused. "I have no interest in the child."

"You better not." She hissed. "Now, I'm only going to say this once, and if you interupt me or laugh it off, I will kill you right now, do we understand each other?"

He looked at her. "What makes you think you could kill me before I kill you?"

"Because we both know that if you kill me, the ship will tell Hunt and he'll throw you out faster than you could blink, and although I have a ship and I have places to go, you don't."

Seeing her point, he settled back in his chair and crossed his arms. The dim light in his quarters glinted off his sharp bone blades. 

Staring at him for another minute and waiting to see if he would really listen to her, she glared at him. Finally, she spoke. 

"Harper's an earther."

He didn't blink, but nodded. "I thought so. Either earther or venezualan. They smell the same."

Ignoring her icy glare and the way her breathing hitched up a notch, he looked her up and down. 

"I didn't realize the Dragans let their property run around so freely."

"They don't. I'm his leaser."

"I see." He patiently waited for her to go on. She didn't waste any time. 

"Here's the deal. Harper's terrified of you and hates you. He's willing to live on the same ship as you, but that's it. He doesn't want to speak to you, see you or have anything else to do with you."

He laughed. "If you think I will reorganize my life to please a Dragan's pet, you are sadly mistaken, woman."

"I'm not asking you to do anything except stay away from him. Trust me, Harper will stay out of your way. You won't even be able to tell if he's in the same room as you."

I was surprised when Tyr didn't argue her point. Apparently, he knew as well as Beka did that earthers spent their lives running around undetected under Nietzschean noses and it was a talent they never forgot. 

"Now, I'm going to tell you this once. You will never—_never_—lay one finger on Harper—"

He smile coldly. "I wouldn't ever dream of it, Captain. Not because I'm afraid of any consequence you might pose for me, but because I know how vicious and brutal those things can be when they're cornered by a Nietzschean. I've seen two of them kill three Nietzschean guards once. They clawed their eyes out, tore their throats open and dug out their bone blades as souvenirs." He laughed quietly. "Trust me, I isn't in my self interest to go near your little earther."

Beka nodded, still glaring. "Good. He'll stay out of your way. He's terrified of you and you and I both know that a terrified, cornered earther isn't a threat to be taken lightly. He'd kill you brutally and quickly before you could even blink. And if you somehow pin him down and try anything—_anything_—at all, I'll find you and I will make anything an earther can do to you seem like a picnic. I've nearly had four years to learn how efficiently earthers can kill Nietzscheans and trust me, I'm a quick learner."

I was again surprised when Tyr nodded, apparently taken her threat seriously. Beka seemed just as surprised.

"I didn't think you'd take this seriously."

He smiled coldly. "Anybody who doesn't take a terrified earther seriously is a fool."

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to judge whether he was being serious or not. There was something about this Nietzschean she found strange, but she couldn't put her finger on it, and didn't care enough to stop and find out. She lifted her chin and glared at him.

 "So we understand each other?"

He nodded. "I won't go near your earther and he won't go near me."

Beka nodded and then without another word, she swept out of his quarters. She went down to the Maru and grabbed Harper's little scanner and then went back up to Harper's quarters. 

When she had let herself in, she told me to seal the door. Harper had shifted over when he saw her. Beka pulled off her shirt, boots and pants and snuggled down under the covers, grinning at the thick softness. 

They curled up beside each other, Harper's scanner firmly clutched in his hands and Beka's gun under the pillow. Within minutes, they were both asleep.


	54. Chapter 54

The Diaries 

Chapter 54

Author's Ramble: Well, this is it, folks. The last two chapters. Looking back at this massive novel length story, I can hardly believe that I intended it to be a short, 25 page little snippet. This tiny fragment of writing has turned into a 55 chaptered, 400 paged monster, but hopefully, an enjoyable one. I've absolutely loved writing it and I hope you've all enjoyed reading it just as much. Thanks again for everyone who has stuck with this story, enjoyed it and sent me absolutely wonderful feedback about it. I have to say I'm extremely proud of this story and hope you all enjoy the end. Enjoy!

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 7 (10086 AFC)

Specific Time: Two months later

The last two months have been strangely cooperative. Beka and Dylan are slowly learning to fit into their new roles. Dylan is starting to learn how to deal with a non-militaristic crew and Beka is starting to learn how to be a good first officer. Trance and Rev have already fallen in love with me and have made themselves at home. Trance has taken over the hydroponics garden and it's thriving and looks better than it did when my High Guard garderner was taking care of it. Rev has moved all of his belongings out of the Maru and into his new quarters. He says he likes the space and the quiet. For the first time in years, he jokes that he can meditate in peace for hours without having anyone interupt him. 

The only two people who aren't getting along are Tyr and Harper. Honestly, nobody expected them to. Although both of them have nicely settled into their new lives on me, they still haven't gotten used to each other. Harper is right at home, messing around with my systems, learning how to fly me and keeping me 'purring like a kitten'. Tyr apparently doesn't mind his new accomodations either. He likes my weapons arsenal and my large gym and has even gotten into the habit of going for a run with Dylan through my numerous, winding corridors every morning. 

The only thing neither of them have gotten used to is each other.

Harper is clearly terrified of the big Nietzschean and spends his days staying as far away from him as possible. He constantly asks me for Tyr's location if he has to walk down the corridor by himself and he always smells the air around a doorframe before asking me to open it. I always reassure him that there is no Nietzschean on the other side of the door, but he still trusts his instincts more than me. The only time he'll tolerate being in the same room with Tyr is when everyone is in command, and even then, he stays as close to Beka and as far away from Tyr as he can. If Tyr happens to be striding down the corridor and Harper is walking towards him, I'd immediately warn him, but he'd always be ahead of me. He'd smell the Nietzschean coming from two corridors away and he'd panic, immediately crouching down and yanking his knife out of his pant leg. Then he'd madly run into the closest room and order me to lock the door. Then he'd dive under the bed or into the closet and stay perfectly still, forcing himself not to tremble until he hears Tyr striding past the room. He'd still stay there for another five minutes until he's sure Tyr is gone, even if I tell him Tyr hasn't turned around and decided to come back. Only then would he creep out, sniff the air and quietly ask me to open the door. Then he'd crouch down, swing around the corner and madly run down the corridor, getting as far away from Tyr as he could. It's only happened a few times that Harper has been sitting in a room by himself and Tyr had come in for some reason or another. Then it would always be a game to see which one of them could smell the other first. If Tyr spied Harper first, he'd spin around and quietly leave, not saying a word and not wanting the scared human to throw himself into a panic attack and start hurling deadly knives at his throat. If Harper spied Tyr first, he'd immediately clench his jaw and his eyes would widen in fear. Then he'd flatten himself on the floor and slither along, not making a sound until he reached my walls. He'd slip his knife out of his pant leg and put it between his teeth and then he'd scamper straight up my wall, using pipes and tables pushed against the wall. Reaching the airvent, he quietly whispered for me to open it. Then he'd scamper inside and I'd shut it behind him and he'd crouch in the darkness, knife in his hand, eyes glowing with fear as he stares at the Nietzschean wandering around the room doing whatever he came to do. 

I have to give Tyr some credit. He never broke the promise he made to Beka. He never went near Harper, never mind touch him or even speak to him. He could smell and feel the earther's fear whenever he came near and he went out of his way to stay away from him. Whether he did this out of fear for himself or respect for Harper wasn't too clear, but after a while, I started to notice that it hurt him in a way to have Harper so terrified of him. He never said anything about it and was careful not to show it, but sometimes, I'd notice that he did seem to care about the little human's fear. Whenever he'd enter a room and smell the remains of that deadly, sick fear, he'd sigh quietly before glancing around and of course, not catching a glimpse of the hiding, terrified human. Then he'd turn around and tell me to inform Harper that 'the Nietzschean' had left. 

I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Tyr respected Harper's fear and went out of his way to stay away from him, but I knew that Tyr would do something about it soon. After all, both he and Harper knew that they would be stuck with each other for quite some time and they couldn't live like this forever. Something had to change. And it did. Maru, would you be surprised if I told you it was Tyr, not Harper, who took the first step? I know I was.

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 8 (10086 AFC)

Specific Time: 1523 hours, Messhall

Harper was sitting by himself in my messhall, munching on a sandwich and arguing with me over installing some new gizmo he'd made. I wanted him to run a few more tests with it, but he wanted to plug it right in and 'see what it did'. We were so busy arguing that he ignored my hologram as I materialized her beside him. I tried having the hologram interrupt his argument with my main AI, but we were so busy arguing that I couldn't interrupt us. Sound strange? Yes, I know. Having multiple personalities isn't easy. You see, Maru? Having an AI isn't all fun and games. 

I had noticed Tyr approaching the messhall and tried to tell Harper, but he ignored my hologram. But, thankfully, his earther instincts never faded or were preoccupied, even in the middle of a heated argument. Suddenly, a scowl died on his lips and he stiffened. Smelling the air, he immediately smelled Tyr outside the messhall door. Eyes widening, he shoved himself off the chair and wildly stared around the room, trying to find another way out. Unfortunately, my messhall is one of the few rooms in which I don't have an airvent or another way out. Harper's eyes widened and he clenched his jaw when he realized he couldn't get out. Changing tactics, he madly scampered and leapt over chairs and tables until he was in the furthest corner of the room. Then he crouched down, shielded by a table and the chairs around it. He pulled his knife out and held it in front of him. Taking a few deep breaths, he forced himself to calm down and stop trembling. He could see the door through two chair legs and he never took his terrified, blue gaze off it. 

Then Tyr stepped through the door. Immediately, the tall Nietzschean stopped and smelled the air. Instantly, he recognized the thick stench of fear that radiated through the room. He was about to step back and leave, when suddenly, he decided that it was time to try and take a step forward. Literally and figuratively. 

Harper had stopped breathing as soon as he saw Tyr step inside and he crouched as still as a stone, not breathing and not moving. If I couldn't monitor his lifesigns, I wouldn't even notice he was there. 

Tyr stood there for a moment, listening for something that wasn't there. All I could hear was Tyr's slow breathing. Nothing else. If any other spacer had been in the room, they wouldn't have even guessed that Harper was there. 

Tyr loosely clasped his hands behind his back, knowing that the sight of his bone blades scared Harper and if he crossed his arms, Harper would be even more intimidated. 

"I didn't mean to interupt your meal, little professor. I apologize."

If Harper was surprised to hear a Nietzschean apologize to him—which doubtlessly had never happened before—he didn't show it. He didn't move, didn't breathe and didn't give any indication that he had heard. 

Tyr, apparently, hadn't been expecting a response. "I mean you no harm. I'm here to get something to eat." When he still didn't hear anything, he sighed slightly. "Little one, there is no need to keep holding your breath. If I wanted to find you, all I would have to do is turn over every table in this room and you couldn't get away. I'm not going to do that. I won't come near you and I mean you no harm, little one. You don't have to come out, but don't suffocate on my account."

Without another word, Tyr slowly walked towards the refrigeration unit and pulled aside the glass covering. Frowning, he glanced at the various dishes before selecting one. Picking up a fork, he went around the room before taking a seat across from the door, but far enough so if Harper wanted to make a run for it, he could. 

Tyr sat down and seemed to forget about the dead silent human who was glaring at him with an unwavering gaze from beneath the table. The Nietzschean ate silently and for fifteen minutes, there weren't any sounds in the room except for both of their quiet breathing and the scraping of Tyr's fork against his plate. 

When he was nearly done, he slowly put his fork down and glanced across the room to the table where Harper had left his half eaten sandwich. 

"Are you hungry, little professor?" He called across the room to the corner in which he knew Harper was crouching. 

Tyr probably thought he wouldn't get an answer, but Harper had learned long ago to always answer a question a Nietzschean asked him. 

He licked his lips once and then whispered a response so quiet and brittle that Tyr nearly missed it. "Yes, my lord."

Any other human would have missed the whispered response, but Nietzschean ears are excellent. Maru tells me that Harper never needed to raise his voice above this half broken whisper, since the Nietzscheans on earth had long ago become accustomed to the tiny whispers which their barked questions always generated. 

Nodding, Tyr slowly got up and went to Harper's plate. Picking it up, he slowly and cautiously walked towards Harper's corner. 

Harper's eyes widened as he saw him coming and he squished himself even further into the corner, clutching his knife so hard that his knuckles were white. He was shaking so badly that I was afraid he would drop his knife, but the knife remained rock steady. A small bead of sweat slid down his pale face.

He slowly followed Tyr's strolling, not watching his face or the plate in his hands, but keeping his eyes on his feet, which were coming closer and closer to him. 

Tyr tensed as he got closer to the terrified human and he slowed down. Keeping in mind what he knew about cornered earthers and the savage brutality they were capable of, I wasn't surprised. 

Tyr finally came to a stop and slowly started bending down to put down the plate. The Maru interupts me at this point, screaming through my processors that Tyr's an idiot. I couldn't help but agree. Remembering Harper's deadly accurate aim with the knife that was clutched in his hands, I thought about telling Tyr to stand back up and back away, but then I remembered that Tyr wasn't stupid and was obviously very aware of the threat he was putting himself into. 

Just before the plate touched the floor, Harper decided to attack. Pulling his arm back, he threw the knife. It whistled through the air, spinning through the air, the lights above it glinting off its sharp edges. It was heading right for Tyr's throat. 

Knowing it was coming, Tyr quickly yanked his head out of the way and at the same time, threw out a hand and grabbed hold of the knife as if sailed past him. 

For a moment, neither of them moved, crouching on the floor, barely three meters between them. They just stared at each other, one in fear and dismay and the other with calm patience. 

Tyr dropped his gaze momentarily to look at the knife he had caught in his hand. He slowly twirled it around in his hand, testing its weight and its sharpness. His eyebrows rose and he gave a small, impressed nod. 

"A good blade. Small and light. Easy to aim and throw. A strong, sharp blade. Can slice through flesh as easily as a Magog's fangs." He glanced at Harper, who hadn't moved and was staring at him, his face blank but his eyes terrified. "I am also impressed by the aim. If I didn't know the throw would be coming, I wouldn't have been able to avoid it. You have fine skill with a blade for a human."

Since he hadn't asked Harper any questions, he didn't get an answer. He didn't seem to be expecting one either. He looked at the blade and twirled it around one more time before he gently set it onto the plate he had put down. Putting the sandwich and the knife beside each other, he gave the plate a push and it slid across the floor and stopped by Harper's feet. 

Harper had scrambled back as soon as the plate had moved and had flattened himself even further against the wall. He didn't look at the plate but merely continued staring at Tyr, slightly confused. A Nietzschean never gave a kludge his weapon back.

Tyr smiled softly. "You must be wondering what kind of fool I am to give you your knife back. Well, perhaps I am a fool. Perhaps I am hoping that you won't kill the man who gave you food. But I know on earth, such a thing doesn't exist. If somebody gives you food, that's their loss and your gain and you'll still kill them for it if it means saving your life, isn't that right?"

Harper wordlessly nodded, staring at this strange Nietzschean. 

Tyr didn't break their eye contact. "But perhaps I am hoping that some of Captain Valentine's spacer influences have seeped into you over these years. You have been on her ship for what? Nearly four years? You must have learned that killing someone who gives you food isn't honorable. I know honor doesn't count for very much on earth, but it does up here."

Tyr tilted his head and continued looking at the unmoving, blank faced human. 

"You see, I had to learn that too. We have a lot in common, little one. I was a slave in a mine for years. I learned how to think like you. Never to trust anybody. To fight for survival at all costs. To never share. But just like you, after I returned to this life in the stars, I relearned what it means to trust, to share and to fight honorably."

Harper still didn't say anything and Tyr still wasn't expecting an answer from him. Nodding at the plate, he slowly stood up. 

"Enjoy your meal, little professor."

Harper stared and didn't move until Tyr had moved back to his former seat and had sat down, not even glancing in Harper's direction. 

Then Harper reached out with a trembling hand and pulled the plate closer. Clutching his knife in one hand, he picked up his sandwich with the other hand and slowly ate it, never taking his eyes off the two booted legs he could see through table and chair legs. 

When he was finished, he slowly stretched out along the floor and slowly slithered between table and chair legs towards the door. He never took his eyes off Tyr's legs as he went. 

Tyr heard him moving across the floor and knew he was being carefully watched, so he didn't move his legs an inch or stop eating, pretending to be completely uninterested in the human's slow, terrified crawl towards safety. 

When Harper reached the door, he crouched down before the door and I opened it for him. He was about to run out, when suddenly, he bit his lip and glanced back at the Nietzschean sitting at the table, quietly eating. He toyed around with his knife and nervously looked back and forth between the Nietzschean and the door. 

Tyr glanced at him. "Something I can do for you, little professor?"

Harper swallowed and his face paled when he met Tyr's eyes. He quickly dropped his gaze and stared at his boots, still crouching in the doorway. He licked nervous lips. He started to say something, but it was so quiet that not even Tyr could hear. 

He took a deep breath, glanced at Tyr and tried again. "Thank you, my lord." Came the tiny, barely audible whisper of air. 

Tyr blinked. "I'm not your lord, little one and I resent being referred to as one. The Drago-Katzov are your lords, but I'm not and never have been. The Kodiak never kept slaves."

Harper frowned slightly, again confused by this Nietzscheans odd behavior. Then Tyr glanced at him and Harper realized he had to correct himself.

"Thank you, my lo—uhm, my—uhm, sir." He whispered, clearly nervous and unfamiliar with this turn of events.  

Tyr nodded, knowing that this was the best Harper could do. "You are welcome, little one."

Harper stared at him again, confused and still frightened. Without another word, Harper slowly shuffled out of the door and then straightened up and ran down the corridor, only later pausing to put his knife back in his pant leg. He ran straight down to the Maru where he stayed the rest of the day and the night. 

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 9 (10086 AFC)

Specific Time: 0245 hours, Messhall

Although I had come to see many strange things in the past few months—such as a scrawny human swinging around my slipstream core as if it were a playground and a Magog spending hours in meditation—I have never seen a Nietzschean standing in the kitchen in my messhall, cooking at 0245 in the morning. 

He had quickly grown tired of the meals my autochef could dispense so he has gotten into the habit of staying up late at night, cooking up a storm in my kitchen and putting the prepared dishes into the refrigeration units for the crew to eat the next day. 

I constantly wondered at the amount of time and energy he spent cutting, chopping, washing, stirring and cleaning everything. When I asked him about it, he glared at me with slight irritation and said that my meals were 'less than satisfactory'. I ignored the insult but briefly considered overloading the heating coils beneath the simmering, bubbling pots of pasta he was cooking, but then decided against it. High Guard ships have better manners than that. 

I had gotten so used to it only being the two of us, that I sometimes forgot about my insomniac engineer, whose insomnia had returned full force since he had found himself on a ship with a Nietzschean. He knew nothing of Tyr's nightly cooking escapades and assumed my auto chef had somehow given itself a new menu, until he stumbled across the messhall one night on his way to engineering. 

He had smelt the mouthwatering aromas from half a corridor away and had crept to the messhall, crouching before the open door, sniffing the air with wide eyes, but not daring to come in. 

I quietly materialized beside Tyr and told him that Harper was outside the door. Tyr nodded and continued cooking, not even acknowledging the crouching, scared but hungry figure before the door. When Tyr was done, he put a large serving of the noodles onto a plate and put a fork beside it and slowly walked across the room and put it onto the table closest to the door. Harper right away scrambled backwards until his back was against my corridor wall and he yanked his knife out when the Nietzschean had walked past him. Tyr glanced at him and then nodded at the plate. 

"If you're hungry, little one, you are welcome to gorge yourself on that. I'm going back to the kitchen and won't disturb you. If you'd like more, throw the fork onto the counter top."

Without another word, he spun around and went back into the kitchen. 

Harper remained there, staring blank faced at the deserted doorway, before his nose detected the delicious scents wafting down from the table and the plate. His eyes widened and he fiddled around with his knife, unsure of what to do. He was hungry and he never passed up food, but he was still scared of the Nietzschean in that room and refused to go in. 

After crouching there, torn between two deeply ingrained earther instincts—to never pass up food and to always stay out of Nietzschean's way—he finally asked me in a tiny whisper whether Tyr was really behind the counter and messing around in the kitchen and not just standing behind the wall somewhere. I reassured him that Tyr was exactly where he'd said he'd be, and besides, if Tyr tried anything, I would alert my avatar and Beka right away, and they'd both be here in seconds. 

Nodding at that, he bit his lip and made a decision. Clutching his knife, he pushed himself up and quietly crept into the room. Flattening himself against the wall, he immediately slid down until he was crouching, and his eyes roamed around the room until he saw Tyr busily washing a pot in my sink. Tyr didn't even glance at him. 

He slowly and silently slid across the floor until he reached the table. Reaching up, he pulled the plate down and then scampered back across the floor until his back was against the wall. 

Crouching there, he put the plate on his lap and hungrily started shovelling the pasta into his mouth, all the while, not letting his eyes drift off Tyr and not letting his left hand relax its death grip on his knife. When he was done, he licked his lips and quietly put the plate onto the floor. He was about to creep out when I materialized the small hologram beside him and asked him if he didn't want some more. I knew Tyr still had lots left. 

Harper's eyes widened. "I can't ask an Uber for more food." He whispered, sounding appalled by the very idea. 

Tyr glanced up, having heard the whispered words. "Maybe not. But I'm not an Uber. As I said, if you want more, little professor, there is plenty left. Just throw your fork up here if you want more. You don't need to speak if you don't want to."

Harper stared at him. Half of him wanted to run and put as much distance between him and this strange Nietzschean as possible, but then he must have remembered Beka's words when Rev had tried reaching out to him in tiny ways and Harper had rebuffed them. He'd promised her he'd try harder back then. Technically, she had never asked or expected him to try with Tyr, but he knew she'd be damn proud if she knew he had tried. 

Licking his lips, he toyed around with his knife for a moment, staring at my hologram—which had folded its arms and was now looking at him expectantly—and then at Tyr. 

Finally, he made up his mind. Grabbing his fork, he lifted it up and threw it towards the kitchen with that same uncanny accuracy with which he threw his knife. 

It sailed through the air and was about to hit the counter top with a loud clatter, when Tyr reached out and snatched it out of the air before it hit the plastic counter. 

He glanced at Harper and nodded. Picking up the bowl of pasta, he slowly walked around the counter. Just before he approached Harper, he reached down and pulled out his gun and knife. Holding them both up one at a time, he put them onto the counter. 

Then he walked towards Harper, stopping a few meters before him and crouching down until he was nearly at eye level with the smaller, still terrified human. 

Harper stared at him, eyes wide with fear, hardly daring to breath. His knife nearly shook in his hand and he clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling. 

Tyr nodded at his plate and told him to kick it over. Harper nudged his foot a little and the plate slid across my floor, stopping by Tyr's boot. Ignoring the terrified eyes which followed his every move, Tyr put another large helping of pasta onto the plate. 

He heard Harper's breathing hitching up a notch and could smell his fear increasing. Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, Tyr saw those bright blue, terrified eyes staring at his bone blades with sick fear. 

He was very careful not to extend them and keep them flat against his arm gauntlets, although they were still there and were obviously a source of terror for the scared earther crouching before him. 

He found himself remembering the many horror stories he'd heard of what cruelties his people were capable of committing with these blades, which were simply meant as a defensive weapon, not a terrifying weapon of pain, torture and humiliation. 

Moving his arms slower, he finished putting the pasta on the plate and then gently slid the plate towards Harper. 

Slowly straightening up, he walked back to the kitchen. When he reached the counter, he looked down at the fork he had left there. Turning around, he glanced at Harper, who hadn't touched his plate and was still staring at him. 

"If I'm not mistaken, you'll be needing this." He held up the fork. Then he gently threw it through the air. Harper watched as it sailed towards him and he only took his eyes off Tyr for a second while he caught it. 

Tyr gave him a small smile before going back to scrubbing the pot. Harper stared at him for a while longer, until he was sure Tyr was busy again and would ignore him. 

Then he reached over, picked up his plate and leaned against the wall, eagerly eating the pasta, all the while, staring warily at the Nietzschean and not letting his death grip on his knife lessen. 

While he ate, he seemed to be mulling something over. Tyr didn't notice his preoccupation until Harper started shifting around. Tyr glanced at him. 

"Is there something else you need?"

Harper stared at him and continued chewing on his noodles. Swallowing, he quietly shook his head. 

"No, my lo—no, sir." He whispered. 

Tyr continued staring at him while Harper continued fidgeting. It was obvious that Harper wanted to say something, but couldn't find the courage. Finally, Tyr turned back to the sink and continued scrubbing. 

"If you can't tell me directly, then inform the ship of what you wish to say. She'll tell me."

I quietly materialized my small hologram beside him and quietly asked him what he wanted me to tell Tyr. 

Harper just stared at me, not answering. Remembering what Beka usually did in these situations, I started guessing. 

"Is the pasta cold? Are you full?" To both questions, he shook his head. Finally, my hologram sighed and tilted its head at him. 

Lowering his eyes and knowing I was getting impatient, Harper nearly stared holes into my floor while he mumbled his answer. 

"I want to know why he's doing this. What he wants in return." He whispered. 

Liking to know the answer to that one myself, I quickly told Tyr what Harper had said. Tyr glanced at Harper. Harper was staring at him again. His hand tightened on his knife and he completely forgot about the pasta on his lap. His face had gone pale and he was trembling slightly as he looked at Tyr, obviously thinking he was about to pay the heavy price tag attached to having been fed. 

Tyr leaned on the counter and continued looking at Harper. "What do you think I want in return?" he asked quietly. 

Harper didn't even blink. "Sexual favors." Was the automatic, whispered response. 

Tyr nodded. "I see. That's the usual price attached to extra food where Ubers are concerned, isn't it?"

Harper nodded, whispering a "Yes, sir."

Tyr nodded again and then leaned back against the counter, still looking at Harper. 

"Little one, answer me this. Have you ever met a Nietzschean who wasn't Drago-Katzov Pride?"

Harper nodded. "Yes, my—yes, sir." He whispered, his eyes wide. 

"What kind of Nietzscheans were they?"

"Slavers."

Tyr nodded. "I see. Have you ever met another Nietzschean who wasn't Drago-Katzov Pride and wasn't a slaver or a slave owner?"

Harper gave a tiny shake of his head, having not the slightest idea where this was going. When Tyr raised his eyebrows, Harper quickly realized his mistake. 

"I mean, yes, sir. I have. You, my lord, uhm, sir."

Tyr nodded. "And I'm not like those other Nietzscheans, am I?"

"No, sir."

"No, I'm not. And that's because I'm a true Nietzschean and those others are sorry wastes of genetic matter."

Harper blinked. He hadn't seen that one coming. Neither had I. We both stared at Tyr. Harper looked like he had just been told the universe didn't really exist. 

Tyr smiled quietly when he saw the stunned confusion on Harper's face. "You see, child, you have no idea what a Nietzschean is really like. A Nietzschean spends his or her entire life finding a mate, having a family and keeping their pride strong. My people don't keep slaves to prove our superiority. My people don't enjoy hurting, humiliating and torturing other, weaker beings. And my people never deprive another being of a decent life."

Harper continued staring, not understanding. Tyr sighed slightly. "Little one, you must understand that the Nietzscheans you've known your entire life—your lord, his family, the alpha, the betas, all of their families, the guards—they don't live as Nietzscheans should. A Nietzschean strives to be independent, raise a family and making sure we don't degrade the name of our race. We are among the most superior race in the universe, little professor. This does not mean we can exploit that fact, but rather, we are responsible for making sure we don't destroy any lives, even if we are perfectly capable of doing so."

Harper was still staring at him, not understanding. I couldn't blame him. Tyr was just tearing apart every ingrained scrap of 'truth' every Nietzschean had ever told him and forced him to believe. 

Tyr tilted his head, not knowing whether or not any of his words were reaching the confused, terrified human sitting across the room from him. 

"We were given many advantages in life, which people like you don't have. This doesn't mean we can use these advantages to destroy other lives. Rather, we are meant to use those advantages purely to better our own lives. Any Nietzscheans who abuse these advantages in the way those sorry sacks of filth on Earth and Venezuala do don't deserve to be called Nietzscheans. I know you don't believe or understand me, little one, and after growing up where you've grown up, I understand that. I don't expect you to understand, but to merely know that this is why I don't want anything from you for cooking for you. I enjoy cooking and I know you enjoy eating good food. That's all."

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 10 (10086 AFC)

Specific Time: 0530 hours, Beka's quarters

More Specific Time: Occuring three hours after Harper finished his meal in the messhall

Harper ran down my dimly lit corridor and skid to a halt in front of Beka's quarters. He asked me in an urgent whisper to open them. Remembering that this wasn't the first time they had burst into each others quarters in the middle of the night, I let him in. 

He ran in and immediately leapt onto Beka's bed. 

Beka had woken as soon as the door had swished open. She'd yanked her gun out from under her pillow—a lifelong habit—and held it pointed at the figure hurling itself towards her. 

It was only after squinting through the darkness that she recognized the clanging of tools in the toolbelt and the spiky hair. She dropped the gun and glared at him as he leapt onto her bed.

"God, Seamus! What the hell! Why can't you announce your presence before you run in here like your ass is on fire, huh? I nearly shot you!" she whispered in agitation, pushing strands of her sleepy blond hair behind her ear. 

Harper rolled his eyes. "It wouldn't be the first time, besides, I'm not too worried, boss. Your aim in darkness sucks."

Scowling and shoving her gun back under her pillow, she narrowed her eyes, about to launch into a long tirade on respect for privacy and manners, when suddenly, she realized he was sitting on her bed, his knees pulled up to his chest and he was paler than usual. Immediately, whatever she was going to say faded away, as did her irritiation. 

"Shorty, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare? Andromeda didn't tell me!" When Beka glared at my ceiling, Harper quickly shook his head. 

"It wasn't a nightmare, boss. I was in the mess. I was eating."

She looked at him and waited. I noticed she didn't say anything about his insomnia. They had argued this out about a week ago and Harper had promised to sleep a few hours at night and a couple during the day to make up for it. She didn't want to start this argument again. 

He licked dry lips and suddenly looked like he didn't want to come out and say it. Beka reached over and pinched him in the side. He yelped and nearly jumped off the bed, but then shot her a tentative grin. 

"Come on, shorty. You already woke me up. You might as well tell me."

"Uhm, you're not going to believe this, but, uhm, you know his lordship? He cooked me a meal."

Beka stared at him. Of course she knew who 'his lordship' referred to—although both her and Tyr had been trying to break Harper of this lifelong habit—but she couldn't understand the last part of his statement. 

"He _what_?"

Harper knew she hadn't misunderstood him but couldn't believe it. He shrugged. "I know. I don't get it either. Not really."

Beka's eyes suddenly narrowed as harsh, spacer paranoia flooded her. "Did he want anything in return? Did he touch you? Hurt you?"

Harper shook his head, smiling slightly at her paranoia. It was nearly as bad as earther paranoia. 

"That's the thing, boss. He didn't. I asked him what he wanted in return and I thought he'd say the usual, but he didn't. Instead, he launched into this long speech about Nietzschees and the way they should live but don't and stuff about some Ubers being genetic waste or somethin', and then, at the end, he said that that was why he cooked for me. 'Cause he likes to cook and I like to eat. That's it."

Beka had narrowed her eyes as she listened to his confused rambling. She frowned and carefully thought over the jumbled mess he had just blurted out. 

Harper was staring at her, confused. "I mean, I don't get it, boss. He seemed to understand what he was saying, but to me, I mean, he could have been speaking Vedran and I wouldn't have understood him any less."

A tiny smile tugged on the corner of Beka's lips as she momentarily forgot about what Harper had said. "It could have been worse. He could have spoken Nietzsche."

Harper scowled at that and waved it off. "No, it wouldn't have been worse. I can speak Nietzsche fluently. All earthers can. The Dragans never spoke common. That's why a lot of us can't speak a lick of common, never mind speak it properly."

Beka's eyes momentarily rose at this, but Harper waved it off. Quickly, Beka returned to musing over what their strange Nietzschean weapons officer had said. She glanced at Harper. 

"What exactly did he say, shorty? Try to remember."

Harper frowned and sighed, thinking this was all a confusing waste of time, but then did as she had asked. 

"Uhm, he said something about Nietzscheans having been given advantages in life but they have no right to abuse them like the Ubers on earth do. He says that they're not really Nietzscheans and they don't live the way Nietzscheans should. He called 'em filth."

A smile tugged on Beka's lips. "Well, I'll have to retract my earlier opinion of Mr.Anasazi. It seems we've misjudged him, Harper."

Harper frowned. "How the hell can you misjudge an Uber, boss? Don't be stupid. He was just talking crap, trying to get me to lower my guard so he can pounce when I'm not prepared."

It was at this point that I thought I should add in an important point. 

I materialized beside them. They both jumped slightly, but they had gotten used to my interruptions. 

"If he wanted to hurt you, Harper, he wouldn't have come close to you unarmed while you had your knife. He plainly put himself in harms way."

Beka's eyebrows rose and she looked at Harper. "He put his gun down before he came close to you?"

Harper nodded. "Yeah."

"And his knife?"

"Yeah."

"And he let you keep your knife? Even though he knew you could possibly kill him if you felt too threatened?"

Harper nodded. "Yeah, where the hell are you going with this, boss?"

Beka smiled gently. "Seamus, you remember how scared you were of Rev before you figured out he was different from all other Magog? Well, it's almost the same situation here, shorty. I'm not saying that Tyr is different from all other Nietzscheans. I'm saying that the Nietzscheans you've known your entire life don't act like all other Nietzscheans. Harper, not all Nietzscheans are dominating, sadistic bastards. It's like Tyr said. The Nietzscheans you've known your entire life abused all their power and yes, they're filth. Anybody who does the things they do on earth and all other slave planets doesn't deserve to be a part of the most superior race in the galaxy."

Harper stared at her, his eyes widening with fear. 

"I can't believe you're buying his crap, boss." He whispered.

Slowly, he backed off the bed, and towards the wall, his eyes filled with fear, not at the situation, but at Beka. 

Beka quickly slid over the bed and approached him. When she reached out to touch him, a slight smile on her face, Harper flinched and jerked away from her until he was flattened against the wall, staring at her with wide eyes. 

"I trusted you, Beka." He whispered, horror filling his voice. 

Beka stared at him and slowly shook her head. "Seamus, no, that's not what's going on here. I'm not siding with Tyr. I don't trust him any more than you do. I swear."

When he still stared at her, afraid, she crossed her arms and stared down at him. "Seamus, have I ever lied to you? Ever?" There was a hard edge to her voice. 

Harper slowly shook his head. 

Beka nodded. "And I'm not going to start now or ever. No, I don't trust Tyr and I still don't like the fact that he cooks for you, but if he really didn't try to hurt you and if he really said what he said, I'm willing to accept the fact that he's one of the good guys."

Harper stared at her, pale and speechless. His back had hit the wall and he slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. 

He glared at her, his fear being replaced by anger. "Ubers are never the good guys, no matter where you go, and if you believe that, then you're no better than them." He snarled. 

Beka clenched her jaw and strode over to him. She crouched down until they were staring at each other. When she reached out to grab a hold of his chin, he yanked his head out of the way and bared his teeth. 

"Don't touch me." He hissed.

She didn't. Instead, she let her hand drop and gave him a long look, waiting until his anger faded somewhat. Then she sighed. "Seamus, I know you're scared and confused. I know what Tyr and I are trying to explain to you must be the equivalent of being told that all Magog are saints and eat vegetables. But please, trust me when I say I don't trust him and when I say that I'll never let him near you if you don't want him near you." She ducked her head slightly, searching his face. 

Reaching over, she gently lifted up his chin until he was staring into his eyes. "Trust me?"

He stared at her, his eyes unreadable, until slowly, he nodded. Relief flooded her and she gently let go of his chin. 

Moving over, she sat down beside him, leaning her head against the wall. After a long silence, Harper glanced at her. 

"You really believe what he said?"

She smiled gently. "I don't only believe it, but I know that what he said was true. It's what I've been trying to explain to you for years, Harper. Not all Nietzscheans are like those on earth. Not all prides have slaves, and not all prides live off the people and resources of slave planets. Not all of them are cruel, heartless bastards."

He hugged his knees and didn't say anything. Glancing at him, she bit her lip, thinking something over. Finally, she got an idea. She pushed herself off the floor. 

"Stay here for a second."

Getting up, she went over to the console in her room. Grabbing an empty flexi, she slid it into the slot on the side. 

"Andromeda, would you be able to filter through your historical archives and pull out significant Nietzschean individuals and their lives and accomplishments?"

"Of course. Would you like these records to be from before or after the fall?"

"Both, please."

I quickly went to work sorting through my impressive historical records and pulled out anything that might help Beka's case. I carefully compiled the long list on the flexi, and then spat the flexi out into Beka's hand. 

Beka took the flexi and went back and sat beside Harper. She handed him the flexi. 

"Read it."

He gave her a look, but she waved it off and nudged him in the ribs. "Come on. Just skim it. You'll see I'm not just full of crap."

Harper turned the flexi around and slowly started scrolling through the data. Ordinarily, I wouldn't want to bore anyone with the details, but I know the Maru would be interested in a few of the Nietzscheans I had put on that list. 

First was Drago Museveni, the progenitor of the Nietzschean race. He had envisioned the perfect race, made up of genetically perfect beings, who wouldn't be effected by common illnesses, genetic defects or be hindered by a lacking intellect, strength or cunning. Influenced by Nietzsche's writings, he and his wife had themselves and their children genetically modified to create what he envisioned as the perfect race. They became faster, stronger and smarter than the average human. Museveni was convinced that this was where the future of humanity lay. After convincing some other people to get the modifications done to themselves—including the bone blades, which Museveni had thought up for pure defensive purposes,—procreation became possible, and within many, many generations of time and careful, selective breeding, a whole new race was born. Although his original vision of Nietzscheans replacing human beings didn't hold fast, the rest of his vision did. Now, thousands of years later, the Nietzscheans had become one of the most superior, thriving races in the universe. Although prides often squabbled amongst each other, and the relentless pursuit of genetic perfection and selective breeding could be called a clinical obsession by many—which, indeed, it is—as a whole, they were a good people. Just like Tyr had said, Museveni had been adament about his new race not using their advantages to wreak havoc on the universe and abuse those inferior to them, but to use those advantages to better themselves and their families.

There were many other people on the list. Prominent Nietzschean scientists who had worked with the Vedrans on slipstream theory and other scientific puzzles, and without whom, those puzzles would have never been figured out and wouldn't have become scientific fact. There were distinguished military leaders, who had led Commonwealth armies made up of dozens of different species, including humans and Nietzscheans, and had made sure that peace and prosperity remained throughout the Commonwealth. 

The records after the fall were considerably smaller, since I was careful to omit any records containing the Drago-Katzov or the Mandau prides, and other slaver prides. There was the Nietzschean woman who had spent her whole life helping to build hospitals on planets which had been ravaged during the fall and still tottered on the brink of destruction and chaos. There were some Nietzscheans who had taken over the governments of a planet filled with chaos and had turned these planets into prosperous, thriving communities, which mirrored the way they had been before the fall. Other Nietzscheans joined the few military outfits which still existed here and there in the universe. 

Harper read all this in complete silence. When he was done, he quietly lowered it and glanced at Beka. 

He sighed and leaned his head against the wall behind him. "Everything's a mess now, boss." He sighed softly.

Beka nodded. "I know. I realize it's confusing and it goes against everything any Nietzschean has ever told you. I don't expect or want you to accept this today and go and hug every Nietzschean out there."

Harper smiled quietly. "I don't think there's ever going to be any danger of that, boss."

Beka chuckled softly and then grew serious. "I don't want you to drop your guard around Nietzscheans you've never met before and I don't expect you to like or trust any Nietzschean, but I want you to understand that as a whole, Nietzscheans are not bad people. After all, according to earthers, all spacers are spoiled cry babies who can't wipe their own noses and take everything for granted, right?"

Harper smiled quietly. 

Beka leaned forward. "If you found a way to let go of your prejudice against spacers, then maybe, you can learn to tolerate Nietzscheans too. I'm not asking you to like them, trust them or spend any time with any of them. All I want is that you don't hold all Nietzscheans responsible for what a few bags of filth do on slave planets. Okay?"

Harper glanced at her and stared at her for a long moment. Biting his lip, he glanced down at the flexi in his hand and then at Beka. 

He took a deep breath. "What you're asking ain't gonna be easy, boss."

She smiled. "Nothing ever is, shorty. But I believe in you and your strength. You can do this."

He nodded and then took a deep breath. "I suppose Tyr is a good place to start."

Beka grinned and then reached over and pulled him toward her in a fierce hug. He hugged her back and for a moment, neither of them said anything. 

When Beka finally let him go, she ruffled his hair and laughed at his scowl. Then she grew serious again and looked him right in the eye. 

"I know you can do this, Seamus. I have faith in you. I might not believe in anything else in the universe, but I believe in you."

Andromeda's Database Records Archive: 11 (10086 AFC)

Specific Time: Over the next two years

Harper had been right when he'd said it wouldn't be easy. It wasn't. He couldn't let go of years of hatred, fear and complete obedience where Nietzscheans were concerned from one day to the next. Tyr knew and understood that. They took things very slowly, but bit by bit, Harper started letting his guard down and slowly started seeing Tyr as a friend. They were still very careful around each other. Harper always tried to stay out of the Nietzscheans way when Tyr was having a bad day, and did his best not to irritate him or annoy him too much. For his part, Tyr did his best not to scare or intimidate the younger human. He never hit him or threatened him. He always kept his bone blades carefully flat around him and never snuck up on him or touched him unless it was necessary. Slowly, a tentative friendship developed between them. Tyr gained a fierce amount of respect for the little earther, whose survival instincts were as fierce as his, and who could easily hold his own in any fight or situation. He also respected and welcomed Harper's cynical view of the universe and his paranoia, which were a relief when compared to Dylan's blind idealism. Most of all, Tyr respected Harper's intellect and freely acknowledged that the human was smarter than him and much smarter than any human he had ever met. Without really being aware of it, Tyr developed a fierce protectiveness over Harper and over the years, he willingly risked his life to save Harper's, something that he always smiled about, since he couldn't remember ever having heard of a Nietzschean respecting and protecting the life of an earther before.

It took Harper longer to trust Tyr, unsurprisingly. After finally realizing that Tyr would never intentionally hurt him and that the bigger Nietzschean constantly went out of his way to protect Harper and give him his personal space, Harper forcibly pushed down his twitchy, paranoid earther instincts, and developed a strange, trusting bond with the Nietzschean. He respected Tyr and appreciated his survival instinct and his cynicism and pessimism, which was something they both shared and which was severely lacking from the rest of my crew, with the possible exception of Beka. 

Although it took a lot of time, Harper gradually relaxed enough to become friends with Tyr. Now, I can hardly believe it when Harper loudly laughs at something Tyr mutters and calls Tyr an Uber, after which, Tyr growls and pretends to take a swipe at Harper's head. Instead of cowering and being overwhelmed with fear, Harper merely sticks his tongue out at him and runs away, laughing all the way down the corridor while Tyr ruefully glares after him, a smile on his lips. Harper still doesn't trust or like other Nietzscheans, and often winds up in one of his hysterical, fear induced panic attacks when a towering, scowling Nietzschean is walking along my corridors, but he's alright with Tyr.

Nobody was prouder than Beka when Harper and Tyr settled into a trusting, respectful friendship. 

It seems that Captain Valentine never puts her faith into someone she doesn't think deserves it. I can't help but commend her for it. I admit, I didn't think Harper could do it, but Beka has always been able to see and trust Harper's potential and heart. 

Apparently, both her faith and her trust in her earther engineer have yet to be bent. But, all three of us, the Maru, myself and Beka, don't think this will ever happen.


	55. Chapter 55

The Diaries Chapter 55 

Maru's Database Records Archive: Epilogue (10088 – Present Day)

Specific Time: Direct continuation of the prologue record

"A starship's soul exists within their captain's heart."

- _Eureka Maru_

Harper seemed to be taking forever fixing my slipstream drive. I don't really mind. I don't see nearly enough of my engineer, except when we go out on a crazy suicide mission and then I'm too busy forcing my old sensors to work and keeping my AG generator running to spend any time watching Harper or talking to him. 

Right away, I can tell something is bothering him. He's too quiet and too withdrawn. He isn't chattering nonstop about what he's been doing in the past few days. I briefly consider spitting out a damage report and asking him what's wrong, but I figure he'll either tell me, or Beka or Rev will come along and coax him into saying something. 

When he's finally done with the drive, he smiles sadly as he gives it a pat. Then he slowly walks to the kitchen, grabs a beer out of the fridge and then walks back to engineering. 

As soon as he enters the room and starts heading back to the drive, I know where he's going. 

He crawls behind the drive and pulls his knees up to his chest. Reaching down, he pulls his knife out of his pant leg—which he still carries with him everywhere he goes—and knocks the lid off the bottle. Then he sits there, enveloped in a sullen silence while he sips the yellow, bubbly liquid. 

About twenty minutes of this eerily quiet solitude pass before I see Beka enter the cargo bay and head towards me. I open the airlock for her and she jumps up, calling Harper's name. When she gets no response, she frowns. 

She leans back out of my airlock and asks Andromeda if she's sure Harper didn't go back to his quarters or engineering. My good, reliable, High Guard friend reassures Beka that Harper must still be on me, since she can't detect him anywhere else. 

Beka frowns and pulls her head back in. I shut the airlock behind her with a whine and she slowly strides down the corridor. She stops and glances into the crew quarters and then her quarters, finding them both empty. She even peers into the medical room, but that bed is empty too. Finally, she get to engineering and slowly walks in, the door swishing open before her. 

She steps inside and carefully glances around. "Harper? Are you in here? Did you fix the drive?"

When she doesn't get an answer, she frowns, immediately knowing that something was wrong. She quickly strides towards the drive and ducks around it. 

Immediately spying her sullen, quiet engineer, she frowns. Harper doesn't even acknowledge her presence and continues staring at the bottle in his hands. Beka sighs and runs a hand through her hair.

"Alright, shove over."

Without a word, Harper moves over a bit and Beka sits down beside him, pulling her knees up and looking at him quietly. 

They sit in silence, neither of them moving or saying anything, until Harper gives the bottle in his hands a faint, sad smile.

"Well, this is it, boss. Tomorrow it'll have been five years." He whispers.

Beka frowns. "Five years since what? Since you cleaned up your quarters?"

Harper continues smiling sadly and won't look at her. "No." he whispers softly. "Five years since you let me stay. Your lease on me ends tomorrow."

Her eyes widen and she curses quietly. "Oh, my God, I completely forgot!"

He continues smiling sadly, quietly picking at the label on the bottle. "I haven't, boss."

She continued gaping at the back of my slipstream drive, her thoughts miles away. "Wow." She breathes. "I can't believe it's been five years." She whispers.

She turns her head and stares at the person sitting next to her. As she stares at him, her thoughts drift back to the day she met Seamus Harper. How much they had both changed since then!

He had been the scrawny, terrified, filthy, starving earther with a bad attitude who refused to wear shoes, had never had a shower before, ate with his hands, never talked and could hardly speak common coherently. She had been the untrusting, tough red head, who never loved anyone and never let anyone love her because she knew that if she opened her heart to someone, she'd only end up getting hurt.

How they had both changed! Harper had changed from that snarling, terrified, skinny mudfoot into a smart, kind hearted, young spacer who wasn't afraid to laugh and believe in the people around him from time to time. Beka had changed from that tough, bitter, no nonsense cargo hauler into an understanding, lovable captain who had learned how to put aside her own feelings and quick anger in order to understand the earther she had voluntarily stuck herself with. 

She smiled as she remembered everything that had happened between the two of them. True, the past five years hadn't been easy. They had lost people they cared about and she had been forced to throw out the one person she had truly ever loved. Time and time again, she had had to adjust her life to try and make a mudfoot fit into it, because she had willingly pulled a huge responsibility onto her shoulders, and she would stop at nothing to care for that responsibility. It really hadn't been easy. 

She remembered the many fights they'd had when they'd hissed, snarled and sworn at each other, earther and spacer values and beliefs constantly clashing. It had taken them a while, but gradually, they had learned to listen to each other before yelling and to try and understand where the other was coming from. She smiled quietly. Rev had been right. Spacers and earthers were never meant to live together. They were simply too different and their lives were too different. But somehow, they had made it work. Through years of heartache, anger, frustration and tears, they had slowly learned how to cooperate with each other and become friends, and even family. She quietly let herself drift down memory lane, remembering little snatches of things. 

Sitting on the floor in the crewquarters and teaching Harper how to tie his laces and having him declare his bows were prettier than hers. Convincing Harper to sleep on his mattress by touching his cheek and showing him that he wasn't as dirty as Nietzscheans had always made him believe he was. Yelling at Harper for having stolen her CD from that store he'd gone to and finally calming down enough to explain to him why stealing was wrong when you had the money. Having that client storming off the Maru and yelling about pressing charges when Harper had suggested sleeping with him in exchange for getting paid ahead of time and then suffering through a huge fight filled with the usual misunderstandings until they finally explained to each other why they had said the things they'd said. Teaching Harper how to eat with utensils and then having Bobby sitting there with a shocked look on his face as Harper proudly cut his pancakes with that tiny smile on his face. Yelling at each other after Harper didn't care about having killed that thief who had crept onboard in the middle of the night until they both calmed down enough to talk it out and finally understand why Harper had done what he'd done and why he didn't care and why Beka wanted him to care. Taking Harper to the beach on that planet and wading through the water with him and watching his joy at seeing unpolluted, sparkling water, and later, learning how to surf in it. Bailing Harper out of jail and putting up with the warden's prejudiced, hateful attitude about earthers. Confronting a scared, hurt Harper about Bobby hitting him and having him denying it until Beka finally threw Bobby out, having chosen between Harper and the love of her life. Having Harper hold her while she sat in the storage closet, crying over Bobby having left. Staying up for days at a time while she cared for Harper after he had gotten his port installed and then struggling through the days of recovery and the excrutiating pain they brought. Confronting Harper about his drinking after Vex had died and then crying together in the corridor, holding each other. Making cookies with Vex and Harper in the kitchen and laughing when they threw cookie dough at each other and Harper had run off with the carton.

Beka smiled quietly as tears filled her eyes. Nope, it hadn't been easy. Just like Vex had said, it was a huge responsibility, but just like she remembered telling Vex the day she decided to let Harper stay, she hadn't regretted the decision back then, and still didn't. 

She turned and stared at the person sitting beside her. He'd gained a lot of weight, wore his boots all the time and had her dad's and Vex's toolbelt firmly belted around his waist, and the light glinted off the silver port in his neck, but asides, from that, he still looked pretty much the same as he had the day Beka had opened my airlock and found him standing there, staring at her with that blank look and telling her she could call him whatever she wanted.

He glanced at her and frowned at her tears. "You alright, boss?"

She nodded and sniffed. Reaching out, she gently ruffled his hair. When he didn't scowl in irritation, she frowned through her tears. "Alright, tell me what's wrong. And don't you dare shrug, or I'll throw you into the boiler."

Harper smiled faintly. "That old threat still stands, huh?"

"And it always will. Now, come on, tell me what's wrong. I know your lease ends tomorrow, but I don't get what the big deal is. We're going to contact Theseus again and tell him I want to renew the contract, I'll give him my precious three thrones and take out another five year contract."

He slowly turned and stared at her. "You serious? You want me to stay?" he breathed.

Beka stared at him as if he had lost his mind. "You're actually asking me that?" she laughed weakly, nearly choking on her tears. "Seamus, of course I want you to stay. I want you to stay the next five years and the ones after that and after that until the day we die. You're my family, Harper, and I love you."

He stared at her. "Are you sure, boss? I mean, the last five years have been the best of my entire life, but I—" His voice trailed off. 

She leaned closer. "You what?" When he didn't answer, she gently poked him in the ribs.

He took a deep breath and leaned his head back, his eyes staring at the back of my drive. 

"I just don't think it's fair for you anymore, boss. You've spent the last five years rearranging your life to fit me into it. You've given up everything for me and given me everything I've ever wanted and you've never complained about it. You've given me a life, Beka. Not just any life, but a life I was never meant to live. And for all that, I've never given you anything in return. I just thought that getting rid of me would be a way of giving you something b—"

She reached out and put a finger on his lips. "Don't you dare finish that sentence because that's the biggest load of bull I've ever heard. Yes, I've given up a lot for you, shorty, and yes I've never complained about it. But you were wrong about never having given me something in return. You have. A lot. You taught me to look at the universe differently. You taught me about responsibility and understanding. You taught me to never take things for granted. And most importantly, you've taught me that I can trust you and for that, I'll always be grateful."

He stared at her. "You mean that?"

She nodded, tears briming her eyes again. "Yes, I do. We've both given each other a lot, Seamus. And we had to. We both know that this wasn't supposed to work. Spacers and earthers aren't meant to live together, never mind become a trusting family. But we did it. We both had to make some sacrifices, we both had to let go of some past feelings and beliefs, and yes, we had our share of misunderstandings and nasty fights, but we did it. And you know what's the most important part of it all? If I would go back and do it all over again, if I could go back to that day when we decided whether or not to stop at earth to pick up those supplies from Keeler, then I would. I'd do it all over again, Seamus and I wouldn't do anything differently. I don't regret any of it, Harper, and neither should you."

His eyes had filled with tears by now and he bit his lip as they slowly streamed down his face. 

He smiled quietly through his tears. "I don't deserve you, you know. I never have."

She smiled through her own tears. "If you're going to look at it that way, I don't deserve you either. But that's never put a dent between us, has it? We're family, Seamus and we're never going to be separated, no matter what anybody—even what some Uber—says. I'll fight just as dirty as any earther tomorrow and I'll even blow up earth if I have to, but I'm not going to lose my shorty. I'm never going to lose you, you hear?"

Harper nodded quietly before bursting out in a sob and grabbing Beka in a fierce hug. They clutched each other, crying into each others shoulders, quietly rocking back and forth. 

Finally, they pulled apart, laughing quietly at their tear streaked faces and wiping each others and their own faces. 

Then Beka crawled out from behind the drive and stretched. She grimaced. "Why you can't hide in a nice, open space is beyond me." She muttered. 

Harper rolled his eyes as he crawled out after her and held his bottle in his hands. "Spacers." He muttered. 

Beka laughed and gently wapped him on the back of the head. Then she put an arm around his shoulders and he put his arm around her waist and they walked out of engineering, still chuckling. 

They slowly walked down my corridor, a spacer and an earther. Two people who were never meant to live together. 

Yet, somehow, despite incredible odds and a chaotic universe, these two had made it work. 

_End of Relevant Memory Archives_


End file.
